Silent Storm
by Crystal Dawn
Summary: Sequel to Silent Messiah. The thing pulling Nagi's strings wants one more girl - Tomoe Sakura. Can Aya and the rest of Weiss save her, or will they all be sacrificed to this creature? Remastered for better spelling and formatting!
1. Silent Storm: Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** Oh, so you've come back, huh? I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long after Silent Messiah for this. Just a note of warning, though. Things get a little more violent in this fic. Also, Nagi/Tot isn't the only pairing this time, either. I'd also like to point out that this is a sort of continuation of Silent Messiah. Meaning, if you've not done so already, please go and read the first one, so that this one makes sense. Oh, and these characters don't belong to me. ^_^ Almost forgot about that part.

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter One

When acting as a stalker, one must first choose a victim.

That much had been done for him already. Either by whim of fate or someone else's design, there was already someone out there that he needed to track. The demon that now resided in his body demanded that he reunite its disparate parts. His task was to find the other person within whom the demon also rested. And through whatever accident or grand scheme of the Estet, he was sure he already knew who the other carrier of the demon's blood was. Finding the girl was the easy part.

As a matter of fact, the whole thing had been relatively easy. Having her name meant that he could find access to all sorts of information on her; her address, her school, her job, her schedule. He knew where she would be, when she would be there, and how long it would take to get there.

Take now, for instance. At 11:30 pm, she would be at home, either studying or already asleep in bed. Lately, she'd seemed to be getting to sleep earlier, so he figured that would be where she'd be at. A side effect, he reasoned, of her having the weaker part of the demon; it had probably been siphoning off her energy in order to steadily grow stronger.

The scuffling of feet across the cold, star-speckled floor brought Nagi out of his reverie. He turned in his computer chair just in time to see the door to the dim, star-filled room swing shut behind a girl whose cotton candy blue hair was drawn up into twin buns on top of her head. She wore a pair of his old, dingy blue pajamas and an expression that belied slight nausea. To further accentuate her nervousness, she held an old stuffed rabbit in her arms in what could definitely pass for a death grip. He supposed it was due once again to the vertigo the room constantly induced in her.

"What do you need, Tot?" Nagi finally asked, coming back into himself. Every time he was alone for too long, it felt as though the Beast would swallow him alive and cast his soul into the abyss. What it did with his body afterward would be anyone's guess. It was a frightening thought, but a thought that secretly thrilled him nonetheless.

Tot, on the other hand, tended to knock him back down to Earth. Even after having been by himself most of the day, Tot's childish grin could bring him back to his senses. It had occurred to him more than once to just stay around her as much as possible. The only flaw in that plan, however, was the fact that he didn't know if he could trust himself anymore. Because he also knew that the Beast had plans for her as well. Plans Nagi didn't approve of. He wouldn't allow it to hurt Tot, not if he could help it. It was better just to suffer alone.

"It's late," Tot said, her eyes wide, obviously fighting hard against the urge to be sick, "Nagi-kun, are you going to bed now? It's bedtime." Nagi lowered his yellow, cat-like eyes to the floor, watching with detached interest as a star flickered and died. She came into this room every night about this time to inform him that it was getting late and that he should get off the computer and come to bed. And every night, he gave her the same answer.

"Not yet, Tot," he said, perhaps with a bit of sadness in his voice, "But in a little while."

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

"Thank you, and have a nice day!"

The girl with the long black hair hanging over her shoulders in twin braids bobbed forward in a small, polite bow. Her customer picked the potted violet up and took her handbag off the counter, favoring the girl behind the cash register with a bright smile before turning to walk out the door.

Smiling, Fujimiya Aya turned to look toward the only other person in the now-empty flower shop.

The other girl stood in front of a cut flower display case, listlessly rubbing the glass surface with a cleaning rag. For as long as she'd been cleaning it, Aya thought that it should have been sterile enough to perform heart surgery on by now. Even so, the girl with the short, mousy brown hair and the pale purple eyes continued cleaning, her expression blank and perhaps a bit melancholy.

Aya sighed a bit as she stepped out from behind the counter and began walking toward her co-worker. To Aya, she had seemed a little listless and drained lately. At first, she had just dismissed it as pining for someone who was gone. But today, it seemed as if something were really wrong with her, as though she were sick. Drawing closer, Aya noticed that the display the other girl was cleaning was full of bright, red roses. Even though she seemed so intent on it, Aya saw that her eyes were unfocused, just as if she were looking past the display altogether.

"Ne, Sakura-chan?" she finally asked, getting the other girl's attention. Sakura looked up, raising her head to regard Aya in a too-fast, jerky motion that looked wrong somehow. It looked as though she had almost been startled awake. Aya also could have sworn that for just a second, Sakura's eyes had flashed some odd color that she had never seen them before.

"Yes?" Sakura said faintly. Aya stuffed down her worry and gave Sakura a reassuring grin.

"What's the matter?" she asked finally, laying a hand on the other girl's shoulder, "You don't look well. Are you feeling okay?" Sakura blinked dully at her before it looked like the question had finally registered with her.

"I just feel a little weak," Sakura replied softly, "I'll be okay. I think it's just a touch of anemia." Aya smiled at her, but her own eyes still held a worried quality.

"Anemia, huh?" Aya said thoughtfully, "I know of a great health store a couple blocks down the street from here. Maybe you could see about getting some vitamins from there?" Sakura smiled faintly.

"Yeah," she said half-heartedly, "I'll give it a try."

Aya smiled once again, but it was really only a mask for her worry. For as long as she'd known Sakura, she had always been a bit withdrawn. There would be times when it appeared as if she was thinking very hard, or was depressed. Aya had already figured out that most of it was because of Ran, her older brother. While she had been 'sleeping', he had met Sakura. It was obvious to her that the younger girl was crazy about him, but knowing Ran, Aya doubted that he had been very good to her. She had already vowed to make him pay for hurting a girl's feelings whenever she saw him again.

'Whenever' looked like it wasn't going to happen anytime soon, though. The letters that Aya had received from her brother informed her that he was now a member of the Japanese Self Defense Force and that he was stationed somewhere in northern Hokkaido. He always apologized for being so far away and for not being able to come visit, but Aya had no way to tell if anything in the letters was true.

For starters, the letters were never postmarked, nor did they arrive with a return address. They weren't even delivered by a postman; instead, they were always couried by a beautiful red-haired woman in a tight red dress. She had claimed to be Ran's superior, but Aya doubted that anyone in the J.S.S.D.F. would have hair like hers or wear clothes like that.

Even though Aya suspected that her brother was lying to her, there was no way to prove anything yet. And even if she could, she still had no idea why he would even bother. He should have known by now that he would never be able to keep anything hidden from his snoopy little sister forever.

Aya looked back over to Sakura. Once again, she was dully pushing her cleaning cloth along the glass of the flower display, only this time, she had moved a little to the right. Aya figured this was a good thing; if she'd stayed in that one spot any longer, she probably would have rubbed a hole right through it.

"Hey, Sakura-chan," Aya finally said softly, her concern showing in her voice, "If you're not feeling well, you should take the rest of the afternoon off. Go home and rest, okay?" Sakura gave her the same uncomprehending look as before for a second before her eyes focused and it seemed as if she were finally paying attention again.

"I wouldn't feel right," Sakura said, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself." This was something Aya had gotten used to hearing Sakura say. She had no clue why Sakura was so paranoid about leaving her by herself. Aya just chalked it up to the fact that she could be a huge worrywart.

"Ne, ne, it's fine!" Aya protested, "You look like you're going to fall over at any second! Then you might hit your head or something. And I'd have to call an ambulance, and if you bled anywhere, I'd have to mop it up. And that's all just too much trouble!" For the first time that afternoon, Sakura smiled what seemed like a genuine smile.

"Seriously, though," Aya said, showing concern again, "There's not much business right now. It's a Tuesday afternoon, everyone's got better things to do than buy flowers. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off." Sakura looked as though she might protest again, but nothing came of it. She looked resigned as she began to untie her green shop apron with the kitten logo on the front.

"Thank you," she said finally. The tone of her voice reminded Aya of the way people in vampire movies sounded after they'd survived being bitten. It was such a silly analogy that it caused Aya to break a tiny smile as well.

As Sakura lifted the upper part of the apron over her head, the tiny bells above the door of the Koneko began to chime softly. She and Aya looked over to see a shapely woman, no older than her mid-twenties, with bright, sausage-curled red hair enter the shop. Her red high heels complimented her low-cut, red business suit. They even made a 'tick-tock' noise, like a clock, as she walked across the floor. In one hand, she held a small, flat box with an envelope on top. Aya recognized her as the lady from the J.S.S.D.F. that had been delivering Ran's letters. As usual, there was only one letter.

"Good afternoon, Manx-san," Sakura said, obviously trying to sound energetic. Aya thought she had failed miserably at the attempt.

"Good afternoon, ladies," the woman that Aya had only ever heard called 'Manx' purred, "It's nice to see you both doing so well." Aya smiled. She actually liked having the mysterious woman visit. She always brought a letter or a present from Ran. Besides that, she was so flashy and sophisticated that she brightened up the shop every time she visited. It made Aya look forward to being considered an 'adult'.

"Well, I'm fine," Aya said, a note of mischief in her voice, "But Sakura-chan's being stubborn. I can tell she's sick, but she doesn't want to go home." Sakura blushed with embarrassment, a small bit of her color coming back into her cheeks.

"That's so mean, Aya-chan!" Sakura protested, "I was just on my way out, anyway - you don't have to embarrass me into leaving!"

"But you can be so stubborn!" Aya reminded her cheerfully, "I swear you must have been taking lessons from my brother!" Sakura fell silent, the blush on her face growing brighter. Aya delighted in tormenting the younger girl like this occasionally; besides, it was all in good fun.

Manx drew a little closer to Sakura, crooking her knees a bit to get a better look at the girl's face. Lightly, she brushed her free hand against Sakura's forehead.

"Well, it's definitely not a fever," Manx said, looking slightly perplexed, "But I brought something that should cheer you both up." Aya's face lit up; she had always loved receiving presents. Manx took the letter from the top of the box and handed it to Aya.

"This letter is for you," Manx said, her thin, red lips curling into a friendly smile, but her eyes darting sideways observantly. Aya was too busy taking the letter from Manx to notice what she had seen; as she handed the letter over, Sakura's face fell. The younger girl looked away, eyes downcast, and trudged off to hang up her apron. As she did so, Aya stuck the letter into the pocket of her shop apron.

"I'll read this later," she said quietly, perhaps not as unobservant as Manx had believed a second ago, "But is that all?" Aya asked this expectantly, verbally nudging Manx toward the small, white box she held in her hand.

"Ah, this," Manx said, holding the box out to Aya. It was neatly wrapped in plain white paper with red ribbons tying up the sides. Manx saw Sakura walk back towards them out of the corner of her eye as Aya took the box.

"Those are from your brother," Manx said, tossing a sympathetic smile toward Sakura, "He said to make sure you share with Sakura." Sakura's face lit up at Manx's words. Her cheeks colored and her former health seemed to return just a bit. Manx smiled what seemed like a genuine smile for once.

"What are they?" Aya asked, appraising the box. She held it up at eye-level to see if she could get a better idea of what was inside. More hints were not forthcoming, however.

"I believe they're mochi," Manx replied coolly, "I'm not really certain, though." Now it was Aya's turn to grin. She turned to Sakura, smiling happily. Sakura returned the expression honestly, probably for the first time in days, Aya thought.

"We can split these fifty-fifty," Aya said happily, "Before you go home, I'll give you half."

"I really don't need that many," Sakura protested weakly, "Really, I'll only take two or three." Aya looked slightly offended.

"Don't be silly!" she said, waving the box at Sakura, "You'll take half. Unless you don't like mochi..." Sakura looked taken aback.

"No, I love mochi!" she replied, surprised, "I just..." Aya pointed at her, grinning.

"Then it's settled," Aya said mischievously, "You have to take half. Besides, these are from Onii-chan - they'll be better than medicine for you!" Sakura blushed, absolutely scandalized.

"Aya-chan!" she said, half-scolding, half-embarrassed.

Manx stifled a small laugh, but couldn't suppress another smile. These girls never failed to amuse her; they were always so full of life and energy. Even if Sakura was sick, Aya could manage to bring some light back into her eyes. Just as Manx thought this, though, she remembered something she had been meaning to do while she was there. She turned to Sakura, and watched the girl blush at Aya's teasing.

Manx felt a pang of guilt strike her; it really wasn't any of her business, but she couldn't stand to watch this week after week. She had to say something.

"Ne, Sakura?" Manx said, her soft voice causing Sakura to look up, surprised, "Can I speak to you in back for a second?" Sakura blinked with uncertainty for a second before nodding blankly.

"Uhh, sure," she replied hesitantly. It was obvious that the girl was worried about what Manx had to say; as she led the younger woman to the back of the shop, Manx reasoned that she would be worried, too, if it was her. Manx looked back over her shoulder at Aya, who currently had a bemused look on her face.

"This will only take a second," Manx said, trying to be polite, "We'll be right back." Aya smiled, perhaps a bit confused, and nodded at her.

Manx led Sakura to a plain, dark green door nestled against the back wall of the shop. This door led to a room in the back of the shop that was used to hold supplies and flowers until time for them to be displayed. Manx wrapped her hand around the doorknob and turned, swinging the door open. She could almost physically feel Sakura's apprehension. She could understand why; in her line of work, there was no telling what news she might have to bear.

Once inside the room, Sakura walked over to the one, small window situated above one of the workbenches and looked out it blankly. The workbench had at one time been used to create flower arrangements, but now went largely unused for such sophisticated matters. Neither she nor Aya could make flower arrangements.

Manx leaned against the workshop door, snapping it shut. The sound didn't even seem to register with Sakura. Manx hated this, every last bit of it. She knew that what she had to say wouldn't be easy on the girl. In fact, she had begun to worry if Sakura could handle it in the state she appeared to be in. Even so, she didn't want this to go on any longer.

"Sakura," Manx finally said, after clearing her throat. The girl didn't even turn to face her. She simply continued staring out the window.

"It's about Aya-san," Sakura said quietly, "Isn't it, Manx-san?" Manx lowered her eyes to the ground and walked toward Sakura, her heels echoing in the small room.

"Yes," Manx replied, stopping beside the girl and looking out the window with her. A bird lighted in the alleyway behind the flower shop. In contrast to the gloomy, oppressive atmosphere in the cramped little room, the afternoon was bright, sunny, and unseasonably warm outside.

"Is he..." Sakura tried to sound out the words, clearly straining with the effort. She was obviously scared. "Is he... alright?" she finally managed to say.

"He is in good health, if that's what you mean," Manx said coolly, glancing sideways at Sakura. The girl seemed to relax a little, letting a pent-up breath escape as she laid a hand over her chest.

"Oh, thank goodness," she sighed, relieved. Manx returned her gaze to the bird in the alleyway beyond. This would be easier if she didn't have to look at the girl.

"That's not why I called you back here," she pressed on, determined to finish this. Sakura turned to look at her, her eyes wide.

"Then what..." Sakura began, her gaze once again filling with uncertainty and apprehension.

"About Aya," Manx said, her tone business-like, "You should... try to forget about him."

"Has he..." Sakura said haltingly, "...found someone else?" Manx didn't flinch and didn't avert her gaze from the alleyway.

"No," she said simply, "He hasn't found anyone else. He's even been told that he would be allowed to come see both you and his sister if he so chose. He refused." Tears began to gather in the corners of Sakura's eyes.

"But why?" she asked, her voice rising, "He should at least come to see her!"

"After what happened with the Estet earlier this year," Manx said, her face expressionless, "He doesn't want to put her in any more danger." Tears began to trail down Sakura's cheeks as she looked toward the floor.

"I don't care," Sakura finally said, quietly but forcefully, "I'll still wait for him." She sniffed a little and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"Sakura, listen to me," Manx intoned, hoping she could get through to her, "He's not coming back." Sakura balled her wet hands into fists and lifted her face to look at Manx again.

"Aya-san said he would come back," she said, her voice rising and becoming steadily shriller, "He said he'd be back, and I believe him! He will come back to us!" Manx turned to look at the girl, laying a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her.

"And what if he doesn't?" she asked, "What if he never comes back? What then? Are you just going to throw your life away waiting for him?" Sakura looked Manx in the eye, trying to stand her ground.

"I'll wait as long as it takes," Sakura said stubbornly, "But I know he'll come back." Manx gave her a look full of pity.

"Sakura," Manx said, talking calmly and clearly, "Even if he loves you as much as you love him, he's not coming back. He's only going to break your heart." The tears flowed freely down Sakura's face now. Manx thought that even if she didn't want to admit it, Sakura knew that what she'd been told was true.

"Why do you even care?" Sakura asked, her voice barely a whisper, "It's not any of your business what I do with my life." She looked away, unable to meet Manx's gaze any longer. Manx placed the hand that had been resting on Sakura's shoulder on her cheek and gave the girl a small, sad smile.

"Because," she said softly, "I know what it's like to wait for someone who'll never come around." Sakura looked as though it was sinking in for a second. Then, suddenly, she brought a hand up to her mouth. A second later, she began to cough heavily. Startled, Manx drew back, staring in disbelief and concern at the girl in front of her who was almost in convulsions with a coughing fit.

"Sakura?" Manx asked, hoping the girl could stop coughing long enough to say whether she was alright or not, "Sakura!" The coughing didn't subside; instead, Manx saw a strange, black fluid begin to ooze out between the fingers covering Sakura's mouth as she coughed. It reminded Manx of bile, but it was black and thick. As a few drops dripped onto the floor, they disappeared almost as soon as they hit the linoleum.

Manx stared in horror. She had never seen anything like it.

"Sakura, are you okay!?" she asked, moving forward to get a grip on the girl before she hurt herself. Before she could touch her, however, Sakura brought her free hand up, smacking Manx's hands away.

"Don't touch me!" Sakura screamed, her voice labored from coughing and choked with sobs, "Just leave me alone..." A second later, she bolted for the door of the room, wrenching the knob and pulling it open, still keeping her mouth covered with her hand.

"Wait!" Manx yelled, reaching out for the girl. She was just a second behind, however, and missed the back of Sakura's shirt. She ran from the room, causing Manx to follow her.

Aya had spent the past few minutes rearranging the displays or flowers in the windows and waiting on the two other women to emerge from the back of the store. She turned when she heard the door to the back room open, but she wasn't expecting what she saw.

Sakura, face streaked with tears, bolted from the door. Her eyes were forced shut and Aya could hear her coughing. At least, it sounded something like coughing; there were also sounds of crying and wheezing mingled in with it. Aya watched, frightened and worried as Sakura ran through the shop.

"Sakura, what's wrong?!" Aya cried, rushing over to help her. Sakura didn't stop, though; she shrugged Aya off and reached the front door of the shop, slinging it open and running outside. All that was left in her wake was the soft sound of the tinkling of the bells over the top of the door.

"Don't let her go!" Manx commanded, having emerged from the back room while Aya was preoccupied with Sakura. Both women rushed toward the door, Aya arriving a little sooner than Manx, mostly because the older woman was wearing heels. Neither one of them was expecting what lay ahead of them on the other side of the door.

Aya saw it first. Her hands flew to cover her mouth in a reflexive action as she gasped. Manx stopped short as soon as she reached Aya and looked down. Her eyes narrowed as she saw what Aya had gasped at.

There, on the ground in front of them, lay Sakura, gasping for breath and coughing. She was curled on her side, still holding her mouth, a small puddle of that same black liquid forming underneath her head. A small crowd of concerned onlookers had begun to gather around her, none of them really quite sure what they should do in this situation.

Manx opened the door wide enough for her to step out of it. She kneeled beside Sakura, visually checking for any other injuries. She had done this sort of thing for so many years that it was second nature now. Satisfied, her head snapped up to regard Aya, who was still standing, dumbstruck and horrified in the doorway.

"Aya, go call an ambulance," she ordered. Her tone didn't leave any room for debate or protest. Aya nodded and stepped back, letting the door drift shut.

"Right," she said softly before disappearing into the flower shop entirely.

Manx looked down at the girl on the ground in front of her. The black fluid Sakura had coughed up began to vanish, continually evaporating as more was expelled. Manx had never seen anything like this before. There was definitely something strange wrong with Sakura. She lay a hand on the girl's forehead and another on her shoulder in a comforting, calming gesture.

"It's going to be alright," Manx said, her voice determined and firm, "There are doctors on their way right now. Just stay still."

If Sakura heard what Manx said, she didn't act like it.


	2. Silent Storm: Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Wow, I've never really had to write under a deadline before. I hope it doesn't affect my writing too much. Anyway, none of these characters belong to me. Just thought you'd like to know. I'm sure it makes you feel special to know that.

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter Two

Across town from the Koneko, settled firmly in the Shinjuku district, a rather large RV was bunkered down for the night in a mobile trailer park. In all actuality, it was just a place used by truck drivers to park for the night, or rest until they could complete their run. However, the RV parked there now had no such priority.

The cheery pale pink and beige trailer obviously didn't belong to a camping enthusiast or a trucker. The kitten and flower logo on the front gave away its actual purpose: it was being used as a mobile flower shop. During the day, the four men who lived inside drove the RV around town, setting up displays wherever possible, and selling flowers out of it. During the night, the RV was left in a park like the one it rested in now, while its owners left for their other 'job'.

Next to the RV was parked a simple, silvery-white hatchback. It was obviously used, and more than a few years old, but it appeared to be dependable nonetheless. The other car that was usually parked beside it - a large, white Super Seven - was absent tonight. Two bikes rested behind the trailer as well.

The entire RV was darkened, the inhabitants either gone or sleeping. The only exception to the darkness was one glowing window toward the front of the passenger's side. It shone dimly, signaling that at least one person was still awake inside the trailer.

The light came from a small reading lamp sitting on a table underneath the blind-covered window in the living room of the trailer. Beside the table sat a plush black leather recliner, and in the recliner sat a man reading a book. It wasn't a very large book, by any means. The spine read, in tiny gold kana, "Oscar Wilde's _The Picture of Dorian Grey_"

The man sitting in the recliner flipped a page, his dark violet eyes darting up and down as he read quietly. Aside from still wearing the ribbed orange turtleneck and jeans from that day's work, he looked as though he were nearly ready to go to bed. He had long since taken off his shoes for the evening and replaced them with a pair of brown houseshoes and a pair of reading glasses sat firmly on his face. Two matching sprigs of long, red hair were tucked lazily underneath the glasses, the rest of his hair falling loosely around his face. Behind the strand of hair on the left side of his face, a long, slender, silver earring waved lazily back and forth.

To most people, he was known as Fujimiya Aya. That's what he had told his co-workers, customers, and employers to call him. To a select few, mostly family and those who knew him well, he was Ran. He had been using his sister's name for the past two and a half years, having almost completely buried the person he was before. His original name had gone long unused, gathering dust in the back of his mind.

Quietly, Aya turned another page of his book. At this point, he was pretty engrossed and intent on finishing it before he went to bed for the night. The last time he'd checked his watch, it had been nearing midnight; he was certain that it was long past one by now, at least. He was the only one still awake in the RV at this hour. Ken and Omi had gone to bed hours ago, and there was no telling when Youji would be in for the night. Aya had estimated he'd come dragging in at roughly 2:30 before collapsing onto one of the couches to sleep.

Not that Aya would notice. He would be in his own bed by then; there weren't that many pages left in his book. He had devoured most of it already, partly because the story was captivating and partly because he was simply a fast reader.

The story itself had grabbed him right off the bat. In it, a young, handsome nobleman paid a painter to paint his portrait. As the years went by, the nobleman never aged, but his picture did; the painting reflected all of the callous debauchery that resided within the nobleman's soul, and got more and more decrepit as time passed. Maybe it was a little melodramatic, but something about the story struck a resounding chord within Aya. More than once, he'd been given over to wonder what a portrait that someone had painted of him two and a half years ago would look like now. While he seemed normal on the outside, there were times when he felt as though his soul was rotting away underneath the surface.

Perhaps part of it was because of the situation with his sister. It had been six or seven months since she'd come out of her coma, but he still couldn't bring himself to go meet her face-to-face. He had already seen her hurt too many times just because she had been associated with him. There would always be those who would track her down if they could make the connection between the two, for no other purpose than to exploit her to take a shot at Aya. No, he would rather stay far away from her, where she would be safe. There was no need to cause her any more pain.

To assuage his guilt, though, he continued to send her letters. The letters were, of course, nothing more than a bundle of lies, but it was better than letting her know the truth, and it was better than nothing at all. In any event, he knew the letters at least couldn't be traced back to him, should someone with vengeance on their mind get ahold of them. There would be no way for them to make the connection between brother and sister.

Besides that, he knew Sakura would take care of his sister, at least for awhile. Manx had already informed him that the younger girl had taken to helping her out around the shop. He knew that she was probably waiting there for him, hoping for a visit or a letter or a call. It was cruel, but he had resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't contact her again at all. That way, she could eventually give up on him, find someone who could take care of her, and move on.

Even though he knew that was what was best for her, it still made him feel like a real bastard.  
Besides that, Aya rationalized, in his business, one couldn't afford to have emotions like that. They were too easily exploitable, and he had seen that happen to his teammates too many times to let the same thing happen to him. Even though he didn't dare admit it to himself, though, he'd already been used that way quite a few times, too.

The sound of a key in the lock on the front door to the trailer snapped Aya out of his reverie. Looking up from his book, it occurred to him that it probably wasn't anywhere near time for Youji to be back home yet. A glance at his wristwatch confirmed this; it was only 1:25. Aya's eyes narrowed as the door's handle turned, disengaging the doorknob and causing the door to swing forward into the living room. Aya knew now that there was no way the person behind the door was Youji; Youji usually made a lot of noise, particularly if he had been drinking.

Heart racing, Aya sat aside his book and prepared to spring from his seat. The door began to swing slowly back toward its frame, causing his entire body to tense. A moment later, however, he found his apprehension to be largely unfounded. A shapely, red-clad woman stepped out from behind the door, her red curls bobbing around her face as she let the door close behind her. Aya's apprehension was replaced with suspicion.

"Good evening, Aya," Manx said quietly, her voice lowered in respect to the late hour, "I'm glad you're still up."

"A mission?" he asked bluntly. Manx walked over to the couch nearest Aya's chair and sat down. She shook her head slowly from side to side, swinging her curls gently as she did.

"Not tonight," she said, "But I needed to talk to you." Suspicion was replaced with a quiet, seething dread.

"You delivered the letter?" Aya asked, not wanting to inquire directly about his sister.

"Yes," Manx said, glancing off toward a corner of the small room, "Your sister is fine. She got the letter this afternoon." Aya almost visibly relaxed, leaning back into his chair and removing his glasses from his face. He placed them onto the table beside him and let his eyes drift shut. Absentmindedly, he began massaging the bridge of his nose.

"That's not what I want to talk to you about," Manx said, locking her eyes onto him. It was almost as if she could pin him to the spot with her look.

"What is it, then?" he asked, looking away in discomfort. He didn't like being stared at like that.

"It's Tomoe Sakura," Manx said, her intense look failing to waver. Aya glanced back at her briefly before focusing on the far wall. A minute or more passed in silence before he even appeared to have heard Manx.

"What about her?" he finally asked. Manx closed her eyes as though she were concentrating intently on what she was about to say.

"I want you to go see her," she replied.

"That's not possible," Aya said quietly, barely even blinking.

"It's quite possible," Manx corrected, glaring at him, "You simply refuse to do it." Aya gave her an indignant look.

"You can't order me to," he informed her bluntly.

"I'm not ordering you," she said, waving one hand dismissively, "I'm asking you." Aya snorted.

Aya returned his gaze to the far wall. Manx crossed her legs and leaned back into the couch. Another silent minute passed before he turned to look at her again.

"Why did you bring her up?" he asked, his voice holding an accusatory note.

"Mostly because you're making her miserable," Manx replied, her words as sharp as needles. Aya looked away again. He didn't need to be told how to deal with his private life.

"It's none of your business," he said, a bit of defensiveness creeping into his voice. Aya made his statement with such a bitter edge that it was clear what he meant: I don't want to talk about this, drop the subject.

Manx clearly took the message. She rose, smoothing her skirt out as she stood. Even so, she wasn't the kind to leave without a last word.

"Fine," she replied curtly, "You're exactly right. I only thought you might like to say goodbye to her before she died." Manx walked briskly to the front door and took the handle. Aya glared at her.

"I doubt she'll die anytime soon," he replied sharply, "She's only sixteen." Manx didn't look at him; instead, she focused on the door in front of her.

"That's not what the doctors said when they took her to the emergency room this afternoon," she said, the edge in her voice having disappeared, "They don't expect her to make it." Outwardly, Aya showed no response. In all actuality, though, he was shaken. He hadn't thought Manx was serious - he had only thought that she had been trying to emotionally manipulate him. If this were true, though, that might change things.

"What happened?" he finally managed to ask. His mouth was dry and it felt as though his throat had begun to close up.

"They're not sure," Manx replied, "She passed out this afternoon while I was visiting your sister. Her body temperature dropped like a rock afterward. They don't know what's wrong with her, but they don't expect her to last more than a week." Aya continued to stare at the far wall.

He really had no clue what reaction he was supposed to have to this. Inside, Aya felt very calm and detached. Just underneath that, though, there was an underlying current of apprehension. The thoughts that entered his mind did so in an orderly manner, though, marching one after the other, right in step. And in some small place in the back of his consciousness, Aya had the beginning of an inkling that he should have gone to see her before now.

"When they took her, she had been coughing up this black... fluid," Manx continued after a moment of awkward silence, "I've never seen anything like it. After a few hours, the doctors had run all the tests they could and decided to send her home to rest till the end. They couldn't even draw a blood sample from her. All they kept getting was that black bile." Aya blinked slowly, letting it all sink in. He knew that Manx had seen most everything there was to see about the human body from her field work. If something had her stumped, it was definitely not good.

"Is Kritiker going to investigate?" he asked. They would probably be interested in something this strange.

"I don't know yet," Manx confessed, "I've contacted them, but it's an isolated incident. They may just wait to see if any more cases like this pop up. Either way, it's not going to help her any. Personally, though, I think it's probably connected to the time she was kidnapped by the Estet." Aya didn't show any reaction, but he did remember quite vividly the time that Sakura and his sister had been abducted. "We don't know for sure exactly what they did to her while she was there," Manx said quietly, "I don't think she remembers, either."

Aya continued to sit quietly, the only outward sign of his mental activity being the tips of his fingers as they began to dig into the armrests of the recliner. Finally, after several more silent minutes, he spoke again.

"If I go see her," he said quietly, "It will only hurt her worse." Manx sighed a bit, her expression slowly turning to one of disapproval again. She hated that stubborn streak of his.

"And if you don't," Manx reminded softly, "She'll die thinking you don't care about her." Aya showed no signs of response. Instead, he continued to stare blankly at the far wall. Manx seemed to realize that there was nothing more she could say to him, and turned the doorknob.

"Well," she said quietly, "I'll take my leave now. If you need me, you have my number." The door swung open and with a few footsteps, she was gone, the door clicking softly behind her.  
Aya sighed to himself and tossed a weary glance at his closed book. It lay on the end table now, lonely and abandoned. He knew he wouldn't finish it anytime tonight.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The soft sound of bare feet brushing across a wooden floor complimented the faint rustling of clothing. The room was dark, and had been for hours, the blue-haired girl in the bed having gone to sleep much earlier. The teenaged boy now getting undressed had stayed up late again. As the last of his clothes hit the hamper, he reached over to pick up his night clothes. As soon as he touched the crumpled fabric, though, something in his mind clicked. He wouldn't need those tonight.

Slowly, he could feel his resolve slipping. Maybe it was because he was so exhausted from staying up late. Maybe he was just tired from running from the demon. Maybe it had simply grown to the point that it was stronger than he was. Or maybe - and this was the frightening part - he wanted the same thing it did.

He stopped in mid-step, trying to fight back mentally. Granted, his efforts were weak at best. He tried to think of something else, anything else to take his mind back. He thought briefly of the work he'd been doing earlier. The girl he'd been following up on was close to the end now. If he chose, he could take her tomorrow, and receive the piece of the demon that resided within her. She was so close to being delivered.

Or, he was suddenly aware, he could let that piece die off and finish his work with this girl in the bed tonight. The other girl, the unimportant one, would probably die, taking the other piece out of existence with her. Then, eventually, it would rejoin the main piece on its own. Yes, that way was definitely easier.

He lifted the sheets up slowly, not wanting to wake her or frighten her away. As he slid beneath the covers, he could tell that he hadn't woken her. Good. She wouldn't fuss if she was sleepy enough. Slowly, carefully, his arm slithered over and around her waist, pulling her back against his bare stomach. There was a small, stifled gasp as he planted a kiss on the crook of her neck. He had woken her.

"Nagi-kun," Tot's small, frightened voice floated back to him, "Your hands are cold." He could feel her stomach quiver beneath his thin fingers as he ran his hand underneath her night shirt. She was beginning to shiver all over from the cold, and perhaps, it occurred to him, a bit of fear. Not that it mattered to him much now. The only thing that mattered to Nagi at the moment was the voice speaking to him through his thoughts. _Do it,_ it ordered over and over, _Do it and be done with it._

Tot whimpered as he pressed her backside against the cradle of his lap. She was beginning to squirm a bit. In response, he pressed against her stomach harder, trying to still her. His other arm slid down underneath her neck, winding into the collar of her loose night shirt. He began to pull on it, feeling the buttons that held it together resist him. As the lower hand crept further up Tot's chest, the top button on the shirt gave, popping off and hitting the floor with a hollow 'tap, tap, tap' noise.

"Nagi-kun, stop," she grunted, trying to wriggle free of his cold grip, "Nagi-kun!" Her smaller hands wrapped around the larger one on her stomach, trying in vain to pry it loose. "Nagi-kun!" she pleaded again, her voice rising and becoming shrill, "Stop it! Stop!" Nearly frantic, Tot kicked lose, breaking Nagi's grip and nearly flying out of the bed.

He saw her standing in the pale starlight then, staring back at him with those wide, questioning eyes. Tears were beginning to glitter on her cheeks. Clutching her Rabbi-chan, she took an apprehensive step back.

Nagi looked down at himself, startled 'awake' by Tot's outburst. He was tangled in the sheets of his bed, completely naked. He almost had no recollection of what he'd been doing, but he did know. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew what he'd been doing.

Frustrated and angry at himself, Nagi leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. He clutched fistfuls of his own hair, pulling them absentmindedly for a moment before releasing them and slamming his hands into the bedding.

"Damn it!" he screamed, not caring if he woke up his teammates.

Tot took an uncertain step forward, still holding onto Rabbi-chan for dear life. Her face was scrunched in worry, small tears streaming down her face.

"Nagi-kun," she said softly, "Are you alright?" Nagi trembled for a moment before looking up at her, the black slivers of his pupils reflecting the room's dim light.

"Don't come near me," he ordered quietly, "Please. Just leave me alone. It'll all be over tomorrow, I promise. Just... go sleep on the couch for tonight, okay?" Tot whimpered a little, but nodded. She took a step back before turning and running for the door. She left the room at a run, leaving Nagi with the echoes of her sobs filling the empty room.

Nagi sighed, looking down at the sheets that lay in wrinkles over his bare thighs. He hated this struggle, day in and day out. And every day, it got harder and harder to tell the Beast 'no'.

Tot ran through the hallway outside their room, heading in the general direction of the living room couch, but not really caring if that was where she wound up or not. Her eyes were filled with tears, making it hard to see and frustrating her even more. She wiped futiley at them with the back of her hand and ran for the stairs.

Instead of reaching the stairs that led down into the living room, however, she collided with something solid, making a very soft 'thud' noise. It wasn't as hard as a wall, by any means, and actually gave a little when she ran into it. Hands gripping her shoulders and steadying her told Tot that she had just run into another person. Sniffling and wiping her vision clear, Tot looked up.

"Well, well, what have we here?" a familiar voice came down to meet Tot's ears. Schuldich looked down at her, his blue eyes glinting mischievously from beneath his shock of stringy red hair. She guessed that he had been on his way to bed when she ran into him; he had on his funny pink bunny slippers and loosely buttoned green shirt again.

Tot didn't know what to do. Schuldich could be fun to make breakfast with sometimes, but she didn't know if she should say anything about Nagi to him. She focused on the floor at her feet. Nagi had told her not to talk to him too much, anyway.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" he finally asked, letting go of her shoulders, "Problems with Nagi?" Tot blinked and looked at his face again.

"Yeah," she said sadly, "I'm going to go sleep on the couch." Schuldich cocked his head to one side and looked at her with a bemused sort of grin.

"Why don't you come and get a cup of hot tea with me before you go to sleep?" he offered, an almost undetectable hint of malicious glee crawling underneath his words.

Tot nodded, shyly wiping her nose with the cuff of her sloppily buttoned night shirt. Schuldich walked down the stairs. Tot followed him as they both walked toward the kitchen.


	3. Silent Storm: Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** Once again, this is going to get weird. Possibly weirder than Silent Messiah. I just hope that if you're reading this, you like weirdness. Then again, if you didn't, you definitely wouldn't be reading this. Right. Anyway, none of these characters belong to me. Damn. No monies for me.

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter Three

The tea swirled in the cup before her as she pulled her spoon out of it.

Tot reckoned that she had added enough sugar to her cup to keep her awake for days. It didn't matter, though. She liked her tea sweet. Especially when she was upset like she was tonight. As she took a sip, the sweetness of the brownish-orange liquid relaxed her, causing her to let her eyes drift nearly shut. Carelessly, she freely swung her legs back and forth in her chair, her feet barely dusting the surface of the floor. Even as sugary as it was, the sweet tea erased some of her worries and put her back in the mood to sleep.

"So," a male voice came from across the table. A slurping noise followed it shortly, as her companion took a sip of his tea. Tot looked up for the first time since sitting down. The man across from her wore a half-unbuttoned green shirt, his messy red hair falling into his glittering, scheming blue eyes. Schuldich smirked a bit as he lowered the mug of tea from his mouth.

Tot regarded him, a look of general apprehension on her face. She really didn't know what to say to him, or if she should say anything at all. She definitely didn't know if she should tell him about Nagi and how weird he had been acting lately. And she knew most of all that she shouldn't let him know how scared she was right then; Hel had always told her that she should never let anyone she wasn't comfortable with know she was scared. They might use it against her.

"Why don't you tell me what happened with Nagi a little while ago?" Schuldich suggested, following Tot's look of surprise with his eyes, "I thought I heard him yell." It creeped her out sometimes, how he could seem to follow right along with what she was thinking. Nagi had told her that he had some sort of powers too, like his telekinesis, but Tot hadn't really been paying attention; she couldn't remember exactly what he was supposed to be able to do.

"Uhh," she hesitated. Tot found that she couldn't look him in the eye and still talk to him. He just made her too uncomfortable. "He, uhh," she started quietly, staring at the tea swirling in her cup as though it were the most interesting thing in the world, "He tried to grab me in bad places. And… and… He got into bed without any clothes on. Nagi-kun doesn't ever do that. Not ever." Schuldich smirked a bit. It almost looked like he was mouthing the words "That's my boy", but Tot couldn't tell for sure.

"So, he tried to make a move on you," Schuldich said, loud enough for Tot to hear. She glanced shyly at him for a second before returning to her tea, blushing furiously. "Did it scare you?" he pressed on, almost as if he knew which buttons to push. A sneaky grin still painted his lips, which unnerved Tot even more.

"I guess," she said quietly, "I didn't think Nagi-kun would do things like that. But… he's different now. I don't like it." Schuldich sat his mug on the table with a small 'clank', causing Tot to look up at him again. He knitted his fingers together and rested his chin against them as he leaned forward.

"Well, Tot," he began, his voice soothing at the same time as it was sort of creepy, "It could be that Nagi's growing up." Tot considered this for a minute, but it didn't seem to be right for some reason. His behavior was a little stranger than that.

"What do you mean?" she asked, finally, casting her glance away from Schuldich.  
"When boys grow up," Schuldich explained slowly, pausing to take a sip from his mug, "They begin to want to do grown-up things. Like touching their girlfriends." Tot winced. "You don't like being touched?" he asked, casting her a sideways glance. His tone of voice suggested that he already knew the answer to that question.

"It's creepy," Tot replied, huddling into her over-sized pajamas. Schuldich raised an eyebrow and sat his mug down again. Tot still didn't meet his eyes.

"It's part of growing up," Schuldich said firmly, "Doing grown up things with Nagi and letting him touch you… it's all part of growing up." Another glance at Schuldich let her know that he was staring intently at her. Tot then began to look intently at the floor.

"If that's what it takes to be a grown up," Tot said softly, "I want to be a kid forever." Schuldich rested his chin on his hand and smirked.

"But you really love Nagi, don't you?" he asked, leading her on. Tot nodded silently, staying focused on the floor. "If you really love him, then," Schuldich continued, "You'll help him become a grown up, even if it's scary." Without looking up, Tot reached out and placed her cup on the table. It seemed to her that something about Schuldich's line of reasoning wasn't quite right, but she just couldn't articulate it. Loving someone didn't mean she had to be scared of them, or uncomfortable around them, did it?

Tot sat quietly for several minutes, thinking about everything that Schuldich had just said. Finally, she decided that she didn't want to talk to him anymore at all; all of the confusion he was causing her was making her more tired than any tea ever could.

"I think I'm sleepy again," Tot said, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "I'm going to go sleep on the couch now. Thank you for the tea." Schuldich followed her with his eyes as she stood and bowed politely to him. He watched her shuffle out of the kitchen, her houseshoes scuffling quietly against the wooden floor as she went.

Schuldich looked across the table at the half-empty cup of tea Tot had left behind. It was child's play for him to tell that both her and Nagi's resolves were weakening. He gave them both a week before one or the other of them broke down and let the Beast have his way. And even if they didn't give in so easily on their own, when Nagi found the other piece of the demon, it would all be over anyway.

Schuldich smirked to himself. Stubborn children could be so much fun to play with.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Across town, a silvery-white hatchback came to a slow stop in front of a well-lit, creme-colored house. Satisfied with his parking job, the driver pulled the parking brake up and shut the headlights off. He then took his foot off the brake and shut the car off. A street lamp now filled the dark car with its dim light. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he reached down and released his seat belt.

Looking over into the passenger's seat, Aya could see the outline and fuzzy features of the flower arrangement he'd brought with him. The street lamp's pale orange light reflected off of the leaves and petals of the flowers he'd used to make it, their violet and shell pink colors dimmed to silvers and blues in the darkness.

Carefully, as not to jostle the blooms too much, he placed his hands on the sides of the polished metal bowl he'd used for a vase, and lifted the bouquet out of the car seat. Thankfully, it looked as though the flowers were none the worse for wear after their car trip. He had been worried that the ride might break some of the stems.

Aya didn't want anything to happen to this arrangement. After Manx's visit the night before, he had spent the rest of the night and most of the following day creating it. Only now, on the evening of the next day, was he confident that it was ready to be given away.

Beside where the flower arrangement had been sitting, on the other side of the car seat, sat a small cardboard box wrapped in plain white paper. Aya carefully tucked the bowl of the flower arrangement under his left arm as he picked the box up with his right hand. Tucking it under his right arm and setting the flowers on top of it, he began to worry a bit. Aya's face remained calm, but as he held the box, he couldn't help but wonder if it was acceptable.

When he was younger, Aya's mother had instructed him that if he should ever go to visit anyone in their house, he would be expected to bring them a small present. To do otherwise would be considered quite rude. As little as Aya normally cared how rude he appeared to be, he didn't want the Tomoe family to think of him as disrespectful. Not only would it give them a bad impression of him, it would make them believe that his parents hadn't taught him anything. He most definitely did not want to dishonor their memory like that.

The box contained a small ceramic teapot that Aya had bought on his way there. He had bought it for about 500 yen at a store not far from where the RV was parked. He knew it wasn't the best present he could have found, but he really didn't have much of a clue what he was supposed to bring; he obviously wasn't used to the formalities of calling on people in their own houses. Even so, he knew there was no way that this family didn't have a teapot of their own.

Opening the car door, Aya stepped out into the street, being careful not to damage the flowers he held in his arms. Feeling the chilly wind brush against his face, Aya was suddenly quite thankful he'd taken an extra moment to grab his woolen peacoat as he left the RV earlier that evening. He shut the car door with a 'snap' and buttoned the top button of his coat with his left hand. In addition to being quite cold, he could also tell that it was rather overcast out tonight; the sky was the gray color of moonlight reflecting off of rain clouds. More than that, the air was heavy with humidity and it felt as though rain would begin to pour down in torrents at any moment. The wind even carried with it the thick smell of impending rain.

As Aya walked toward the Tomoe house, past the fence that separated it from the street, his apprehension returned. It occurred to him that two and a half years of being a killer hadn't prepared him in the least for the social intricacies of meeting a girl's parents. He didn't even know why he should be nervous in the first place. It wasn't as though he was ever going to see her, or her parents, again. An unsettling thought made its way through Aya's mind then; if he did see either Sakura or her parents again, it was likely to be at her funeral.

Apprehension was replaced by a cold, creeping dread that Aya hadn't felt in a long time. As he reached the door of the house and lifted his free hand to ring the doorbell, he realized that he didn't want to attend another funeral. Especially not Sakura's. As he pressed the doorbell, a small, buzzing noise came from inside the house and Aya swore to himself. Why was it always the innocent ones who had to suffer?

On the other side of the door, Aya could hear the scuffle of stockinged feet coming toward the door. There was a rattle of a doorknob and the door creaked open a bit. A second later, the door swung open entirely. What was on the other side made Aya feel woefully underdressed.

The door had been opened by a sweet-faced, brown haired woman in her late thirties or early forties. She was wearing an expensive-looking, powder blue kimono that was decorated with dark purple plum blossoms and nightingales. The obi holding it together was made of dark purple material as well, and if Aya had to guess, he would have definitely thought it to be tied in some impossibly difficult knot in the back. The well-dressed lady's brown hair was pulled up onto the top of her head in an intricate bun, in the style that had been fashionable during the late Edo period. Even though she smiled when she saw her visitor, her large, round, violet eyes looked sad and tired. Aya was so taken aback by the lady's elegant, if somewhat exhausted, appearance that he had no clue what he should say.

"G-good evening," he tried, now somehow very grateful that he'd bothered to stop and pick up the small gift he held underneath his right arm on his way there. The lady smiled sweetly at Aya, bowing a bit as she did so.

"You must be here to see Sakura-chan," she said softly, "Please don't stay on the door step. Come inside." Still a bit startled, Aya bowed in return and stepped through the door. As the brown haired lady shut the door, Aya set aside the box and the flowers and stooped to remove his boots.

"I apologize for the state the house is in," the older woman said, her smile now holding a bit of embarrassment, "It's a bit of a mess right now since I just came home from work." Aya looked up from his shoes; nothing could be further from the truth to his mind.

The house was so clean that it didn't even look as though anyone lived in it. There wasn't an out-of-place piece of clothing, dish, cushion, or shoe anywhere in sight. Even though the structure of the house was reminiscent of most western houses, the wall hangings, furniture, flower arrangements, and other decorations were decidedly Japanese. Aya could see all the way through the living room and into the back hallway of the house, but it was still spacious and larger than the house he and his family had lived in several years ago.

Adding that to the open kitchen he saw off to the left of the living room, he also knew there was a second story and that Sakura's room was on it. This told him that at some point, Sakura's family must have been quite well-off. However, the fact that the woman standing before him had just come home from her job also told him that that point in time had probably long since passed.

"I should probably also apologize for startling you," the older woman continued as Aya picked the box and the flowers back up and stood up, "I haven't had time to change out of my work clothes yet. Here, take a pair of houseshoes, and let me take your coat." Aya did as he was told, slipping his feet into a spare pair of houseshoes that had been left beside the door. This time, he found a nearby end table and placed the box and the flowers on it before he began to take his coat off. Beneath the coat was the same orange sweater and jeans he'd been wearing since Manx's visit the night before.

"Work clothes?" he asked reflexively, handing his coat over. Aya had several ideas as to what sort of job would require a woman to dress so formally, but they were so disparate and different that he couldn't place her profession for certain. The one that readily sprang to mind was geisha, but he knew geisha wore white makeup. Besides that, he could never ask the woman that was probably Sakura's mother if she was a geisha. The older woman hung his coat on a rack by the door and turned to face him again.

"Yes," she replied, "I work as a mistress of tea ceremonies. Otherwise, I wouldn't be dressed so formally." She motioned toward the flowers as Aya went to pick them up again, her sleeves brushing her waist as she did so. "But you're not here to hear about me, are you?" she asked sweetly, "You're here to see Sakura-chan." Aya turned to face her again, holding the white box out to her.

"Uh, yes," he said slowly, "But this is for your family." Clearly flattered, the lady took the box and gave Aya another small bow. "I know it's not much," he said, shifting his gaze to the floor, "It was all I could do on such short notice, though. I hope you'll accept it."

"Thank you very much," she replied, smiling warmly, "I'm proud my silly daughter has attracted such a handsome and considerate visitor." A small blush crept across Aya's face as he tried to think of what he should say next. "I suppose you'd like to see her now?" the older woman asked, turning toward the living room. Aya could now see that his first impression of her had been at least partially correct: the obi on her back was tied in an impossibly intricate design meant to look like a large flower.

"How is she?" he finally asked, following Sakura's mother through the living room and toward the back hallway.

"She's resting right now," she replied quietly, a bit of hesitation showing in her voice, "I don't know if she's sleeping or not. I can't tell anymore. She's not opened her eyes since she came home from the hospital, but sometimes she talks." She turned to smile sadly at Aya. "I'm sure she'll be well enough to talk to you, though," she said softly, "You're Fujimiya-san, aren't you?" Aya was startled once again by the blue-clad woman.

"Yes," he replied, "She mentioned me?" The older woman turned to the left and stepped into the hallway. She was facing a set of wooden stairs that led up to the second floor.

"I couldn't get her to speak of anything else for weeks after she met you," she said, smiling as though she were remembering something amusing. "Ah, it's really not any of my business," she continued a moment later as she stepped onto the first stair on the staircase, "But are you by any chance apologizing to her for something?" Once again, the older lady had managed to surprise Aya.

"I... What makes you ask?" he asked, wondering how she would be able to figure something like that out.

"Those flowers," she answered, pointing to the arrangement he was carrying, "The sweet peas mean 'thank you for a lovely time', and the purple hyacinth mean 'I'm sorry that I can't be with you'. Right?" Aya looked at the arrangement. In addition to the pair of hyacinth and the tendrils of sweet peas that Sakura's mother had pointed out, there was also a carpet of striped purple and white carnations and purple zinnias. In the center of the arrangement stood one thornless, blood red rosebud. Together, the entire arrangement was meant to be an apology and a goodbye. Dumbstruck, Aya followed her up the stairs.

"Do you study ikebana?" he finally asked, seeing it as the only reason she would know all of that. She shook her head and continued up the stairs, once again smiling sadly as she went.

"No," she replied, "My husband did. He worked as an instructor, so I picked a little bit up from him. Did you make that arrangement yourself?"

"Yes," Aya responded, following the older lady off of the stairs and onto the second floor. Unlike the first floor, the second was dimly lit and barely decorated at all. There were a few doors lining the landing, which opened off to the left; Aya knew Sakura's room was behind one of them. He had been there once before, several months ago, to deliver his safe-box key to her, but he didn't use the front door that time.

"Ah, where did you study?" she asked, leading him to the second door from the right, "Perhaps you studied under my husband?" Aya shook his head.

"I don't think so," he replied, "I studied ikebana at a school in Sendai." Much like the flower shop Aya ran with the rest of Weiß, the flower arranging school in Sendai had served double duty. It was actually part of one of Kritiker's programs, serving as a post for some of their investigators. In addition to learning flower arranging there, Aya had also learned more useful, deadlier skills there as well.

"Sendai?" Sakura's mother asked, her kind smile breaking for a second to reveal a strange expression that Aya couldn't quite place. It looked somewhat worried, but before Aya had a chance to properly figure out what it was, the familiar sad smile was back in place. "My husband always spoke highly of them," she said finally, resting her hand on the door of the room she now stood before, "He had wanted to teach there before he passed away." Aya reasoned that if her husband had wanted to teach at Sendai, there stood a fair chance that this lady knew what was actually taught there. Perhaps, he thought, that was why she had given him such a strange look when he mentioned it.

"I'm sorry, Tomoe-san," Aya said softly, not really sure of what else he should say.

"Oh, not Tomoe-san anymore," she said, still smiling, but obviously hiding a great deal of sadness, "I go by my maiden name now. I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself properly. My name is Ennosai Sumomo. Yours is Fujimiya Aya, right?" She bowed again, causing Aya to do the same in return.

"That's right," he said awkwardly. Ennosai smiled at him and turned to open the sliding door that led to Sakura's room. Before she did so, however, she stopped and turned back around to look at him again. For a second, Aya thought she looked as though she were appraising him for some odd reason.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "You are very much like him. Very quiet and thoughtful. No wonder Sakura likes you so much." Aya felt his face get warm again, and as Ennosai turned to open the door, he thought he heard her chuckle a tiny bit.

The thin, wooden door slid back in its tracks to reveal the room Aya had visited almost a year ago. It was lit only by a small lamp on Sakura's chest of drawers, which stood between the doorway and her futon. The dim light fell across the neat, pale purple futon and the girl that lay inside it, her covers pulled up to her chin. On the other side of the futon sat a desk, school papers scattered untouched across it. A calendar and a few posters decorated the walls, and along the far wall, curtains were drawn across the sliding glass door that Aya had stood outside the last time he visited; they opened out onto the small patio outside Sakura's room.

"Sakura-chan," Ennosai said softly, obviously not sure if her daughter was sleeping or not, "You have a visitor." When no reply came, the older lady turned to Aya and smiled sadly.

"She may be asleep," she said apologetically, "I'll go back downstairs so you can visit with her, though. I'm sure she'll appreciate it when she wakes back up." Ennosai bowed one last time, causing Aya to do so once again in return. He stepped through the doorway, watching the girl in the futon as her mother closed the door behind him.

Aya took a few steps to stand in front of the chest of drawers and then placed the flower arrangement on top of it. The metal container made a small 'clunk' against the wood of the dresser, but he barely registered it. He was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He couldn't help but see the similarities between the girl laying in the futon on the floor and his own sister laying in her hospital bed two and a half years ago. It was something he didn't relish thinking about, but that he knew couldn't be avoided. She looked just the same, just as peaceful. It made Aya feel very cold.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice almost inaudible, "I know it's not a good arrangement, by any standard. Even I could have done better." Aya turned to focus instead on the flower arrangement sitting before him. He could hear her breathing, unsure of whether he'd woken her or not, and not wanting to look at her again to find out.

"That's not true," a small, languid voice came from the floor, "I'm sure if you made it, it's wonderful. The smell of the hyacinth fills up the whole room. Aya-san." Looking over again to the futon, Aya could see that even though it looked like she was still sleeping, Sakura had turned her face toward him.

"You're awake," he said, stepping over to kneel beside the futon.

"I knew you'd come back," Sakura responded, her voice wavering as though it were trying to get stronger, "I told Manx-san you'd come back." Tears squeezed out between her shut eyelids and slid down the sides of her cheeks. Hesitantly, awkwardly, Aya reached out to wipe one of them away. The second he touched her face, though, he almost recoiled in shock; Sakura's skin was as cold as ice. Puzzled, Aya continued to touch her, his fingertips resting lightly against her cheek. He had never felt a person this cold before, especially not one that was still breathing. He could understand a cadaver being frozen, but he knew there was no way that a living human being could stay this cold in a well-heated house. By rights, he figured that the girl laying before him should not have been living.

"I-I'm sorry I didn't eat any of the mochi you sent," Sakura continued, feebly sliding a hand out of her blankets to grip his, "Manx-san said you wanted us to share, but I left it all with Aya-chan. Please don't be mad." If the girl's hand hadn't been so cold and distracting and downright creepy, Aya might have been tempted to be angry at Manx for lying to her - he had never said anything about having his sister share that gift. At the moment, though, he was more concerned with the fact that it felt as though his hand were being held by a corpse.

"Sakura," he said, trying to keep his voice down, "What happened to you?" She seemed startled for a second, laying quietly with her hand covering his.

"I don't know," she answered hesitantly. Aya's eyes narrowed. He knew it wasn't that simple.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked, a bit of impatience peeking through in his voice.

"It's only been this bad in the past few weeks," Sakura replied weakly, releasing his hand and rolling onto her back. Aya could now tell that she was trying to avoid the question.

"How long?" he asked again sternly, causing her to flinch.

"Since... since that time," she replied shakily, "That time those strange foreigners kidnapped Aya-chan. At first I just felt a little weak, so I didn't complain." Aya felt his body stiffen at the mention of the kidnapping. He fought back the memories of that night and the ritual they had tried to perform and focused on Sakura. What had they done to her then, anyway? He hadn't thought much about what had happened to her before now, instead having preferred to think about his sister. Now, though, he was beginning to regret his inattention.

Aya could tell that she was scared, but he didn't know why exactly. Was it the illness that was causing her to act so fearful, or was it something else? Could it have been her own memories of what had been done to her? It made the guilt he had been feeling sting again; somehow, he felt that if he'd come back sooner, this could have been avoided. Even though he knew it was irrational, he couldn't help that feeling. Even worse than that, though, there was the deeply ingrained notion that if she had never become involved with him, she wouldn't be laying ill right now. Aya reached out to touch her again, this time brushing some of the hair away from her forehead and leaving his hand there when he was done.

"But... a month ago," Sakura continued, obviously trying to gather the strength to keep talking, "A month ago, I started hearing things. Like someone talking, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. At first, I just thought it was my mind playing tricks on me, but..." Aya watched her, waiting for her to continue. Was this just another symptom of whatever was wrong with her, or was she delirious? "It started getting louder a couple of weeks ago," she said, starting to tremble a little, "And I started feeling cold a lot. I figured it was just because the weather had gotten colder, but it was all the time. Then the voice got really loud and I started to feel sick a lot. I didn't want anyone to worry and I didn't know what to do, so I didn't tell anyone. I just wanted it to go away!" Tears had begun to slide down Sakura's face again as Aya watched.

"That was stupid," he said softly, "You should have said something to someone." Sakura looked as though she might burst into full-fledged sobs at any moment, save for the fact that Aya didn't really believe she had that much energy left.

"I know," she said, almost choking on the words, "I know. I... Please don't be mad at me, Aya-san!" She had begun to try and stifle her sobs, placing a hand over her mouth and causing her chest to heave.

"Calm down," Aya said, his expression softening, "I'm not mad at you." Sakura seemed to accept this, relaxing a little bit and letting her sobs die down. As she wiped fretfully at her wet eyes, Aya noticed something that seemed out-of-place about her. It was something that had been bothering him the entire time he'd been talking to her but that he had only now been able to put his finger on.

"Sakura," he said, bending over her and causing her eyebrows to arch, "Why don't you open your eyes?" Sakura froze where she was laying, a look of horror nailing her to the cushions of her futon.

"I... I don't..." she stammered softly, her voice slowly fading out, "The light... hurts them." Aya glared down at her.

"Don't lie to me," Aya said, a quiet, deadly tone in his voice, "You've not opened your eyes the entire time you've been talking to me." Sakura shrank into her covers, obviously wanting to escape but having neither the means nor the energy to do so.

"I just... I... I didn't mean..." Sakura continued to stammer, no longer able to form a coherent sentence. Aya looked down at her sternly. He was tired of playing this game with her.

"Either open your eyes," he ordered, taking his hand from her forehead and pressing it down hard beside her face, "Or I'll do it for you." Sakura rolled over onto her side, facing away from him. Small, white hands emerged from the futon to cover her face.

"I don't want you to see!" she cried, mustering more strength than Aya had thought she still possessed, "You'll hate me!"

"Nonsense," Aya answered sternly. He reached out with his right hand, meaning to pull Sakura back to face him by her shoulder. However, just as he came within a hair's width of touching her, she jerked away. Sakura unsteadily pulled herself into a sitting position, revealing the slip she'd been wearing underneath her covers. She sat huddling into herself with her back turned to him.

"Don't!" she said, clutching at her own shoulders as she leaned away from him, "Please don't. I... I'll do it, but please don't hurt me!" Aya watched her silently, an irritated look beginning to creep across his face. He had no idea why she thought he'd hurt her in the first place, let alone hurt her just for opening her eyes. The most likely explanation, he figured, was that her illness had made her unable to think straight. Perhaps she really was delirious?

Even though Sakura sat facing away from him, Aya could see her lift her face up a bit as she stopped huddling. The lousy view he had allowed him to follow the edges of her eyelids as they slowly slid up, but it didn't allow for much else. None of this, however, prepared him for the sight that awaited him as she turned to face him.

Shaded by dark brown bangs, a large pair of strange, watery eyes stared fearfully out at Aya. Even in the dim light, he could tell that they were no longer the soft violet color that they once were. Instead, rimmed by an almost black corona, the irises of Sakura's eyes were a deep, glowing, gold color. That abnormal color filled her eyes far more than her original color did; her irises looked as though they'd been stretched vertically, almost to the point that they looked cat-like. Even worse, the pupils inside had become nothing more than wide vertical slits, dilating and constricting in an attempt to adjust to the dim light in the room.

Aya's expression remained fixed, but inside he was taken aback. Manx had definitely been right; something out of the ordinary was going on. He had no idea what could be causing such strange changes in Sakura's body. Had it been a delayed reaction from an experiment that the Estet had performed on her? An after-effect of their ceremony? A parasite or some kind of possession? Slowly, pity creeping onto his face, Aya lifted a hand to touch her wet cheek. Instinctively, Sakura flinched as he moved. What was she so afraid of?

"God," he breathed softly, finally touching her face, "What happened to you?" Tears began to slip down her face again as he touched her. Nearly a minute passed with her just staring at him, seemingly waiting on him to do something. Finally, seeing that he had made no other moves toward her, Sakura seemed to forget her earlier apprehension. She turned to face him, lunging forward and burying her face in his chest.

Aya had no idea what he was supposed to do with the girl that was now sobbing into his sweater. He looked down awkwardly, watching her clutch at the fabric of his shirt as she cried. This really did make him uncomfortable, but he knew there was no way he could tell her to stop now. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on her back and began to stroke it slowly, almost in the same way that one would pet a distressed kitten.

"I'm sorry," Sakura managed to choke out between her sobs, "I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid! He said you'd be mad and that you'd think I was evil. He said..." Through her words, Sakura began to calm down a bit. She hesitated, though, huddling closer to Aya as she did so. "He said you'd kill me," she whispered, clinging to him for dear life, "That he wanted you to go away, so that you wouldn't hurt me."

"Who is 'he'?" Aya asked softly. Aya's mouth had become dry again; whoever 'he' was, he had hit a little too close to Aya's thoughts for him to be comfortable. He no longer believed that Sakura was delirious. There were definitely things going on here that he simply did not understand.

"He's the one that keeps talking to me," Sakura whispered, "I don't know who he is, but I can hear him. I didn't tell anyone about him because he said they'd think I was lying." She fell silent again, clutching Aya's shirt tightly as she did. She stayed completely still, so much so that Aya could barely tell she was breathing.

Slowly, Aya moved his hand from her back to her hair and wrapped his other arm around her. He lowered his head, holding her tightly against his chest. His guilt and anger and sadness had faded upon seeing Sakura like this. Even though he couldn't explain it, they had begun to be replaced by a desire to protect the pitiful creature that was currently crying into his sweater. He had no idea how, but he knew he wanted to keep her from being hurt any more because of him.  
Several minutes passed before Sakura moved again. When it happened, it was such a minuscule change that Aya barely noticed it. But sure enough, he felt her eyes snap open against the fabric of his shirt. Her fingers slowly uncurled, releasing his sweater as her hands rested against his chest. Aya looked down to see that Sakura looked as though she were watching something very far away. He followed the direction her eyes had moved in, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Aya-san," she said softly, her voice taking on an eerie tone, "It's time for you to go." Aya looked at her, startled, as she gently pushed him away. "He's coming," she continued, "You should go before he gets here." Aya's eyes narrowed as Sakura looked off in the same direction as before.

"Who's coming?" he asked, staring intently at her. Sakura seemed to remember his presence and turned to look at him.

"The boy with the eyes like mine," she replied simply, "I don't know his name, but you should leave. He doesn't want any interference." Aya had begun to openly glare at her now.

"I'm not going anywhere," he stated flatly. Sakura's face began to take on a more panicked expression.

"He'll hurt you!" she protested, almost becoming frantic, "You've got to get out of here! He..." She stopped mid-sentence, turning to look at the curtained patio doors behind her. Aya followed her gaze, watching as a figure silhouetted by the lamplight outside stepped in front of the glass doors.

"He's here," Sakura whispered as the figure reached out to open the doors. There was a jerking noise, shortly followed by the noise of a lock catching the door. Three or four more jerks followed before the figure rested a hand against the patio door.

Aya watched in shock as the glass door exploded inward. Instinctively, he grabbed Sakura, trying to shield her from the flying shards of glass. He could feel several pieces lodge themselves into his arms, a few even flying into his face, as he fell forward, covering the girl with his own body. A few seconds later, Aya heard the crunching of glass being crushed underfoot and looked up. What he saw made his blood boil.

Standing there, in the midst of the ruined door with the tattered curtains billowing in the cold, winter air behind him, was a boy no older than sixteen. His unruly, straight black hair whipped around his face, barely serving to conceal his disturbing, golden eyes. But it was his outfit that gave him away; the dark blue school uniform he wore confirmed his identity to Aya. Even though he couldn't remember his name, Aya knew that this boy was the youngest member of Schwarz.

"I am only here for the girl," he said, his soft voice belying deadly intent, "I have no quarrel with you, Weiß. Don't interfere."


	4. Silent Storm: Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** Whew, that last chapter was long! But I finally finished it! Hopefully, this chapter won't be as long, though. Anyway, these characters don't belong to me. They belong to someone else. Lucky jerk.

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter Four

The nearly powdered glass made a tinkling sound as it fell like snowflakes to the ground. The lamplight streaming in through the broken door and the tattered curtains reflected off the chips, making them sparkle as they fluttered to the ground. In the midst of this lightshow, a black-haired boy with strange, glowing gold eyes looked down with a detached, condescending stare at the two people sitting in the floor beneath him.

Aya looked up at the boy defiantly, ignoring the sting of the glass that had embedded itself in his skin during the door's explosion. The girl in his arms looked up at the boy as well, only her stare was far blanker than Aya's. He tightened his grip on Sakura, drawing her closer into his chest. He would sooner see hell freeze over than let this boy have her.

"Step aside," Nagi ordered with a small wave of his hand, taking another step into the room as he did so. The glass crunched softly beneath his feet as it ground into the carpeting on the floor. Aya continued to glare at him.

"No," he replied, loosening his grip on Sakura and pushing her behind him. Aya could feel the anger against those who had hurt his sister flare anew, fresh with the sight of one of their number. Another second passed, and Aya had sprung from his place on the floor, hurling himself at his enemy. Even though he was unarmed, he was still sure he could do considerable injury to that kid.

He had no more than crossed half the distance between himself and Nagi before Aya was proven wrong. A strong force weighing down onto his back reminded him of what had made Schwarz so difficult to face in the first place: their superhuman abilities. It suddenly occurred to him that the boy before him had been gifted with telekinesis, which he had so brutally demonstrated against Omi several months ago. Aya then hit the ground face first and felt himself being pinned there, several new scrapes forming on his cheeks.

"Bastard," he hissed, managing to raise his head from the floor to look at his opponent, "Stop playing games!" The boy standing above him looked down with a satisfied smirk.

"I'm not the one who's holding you down, fool," Nagi replied coolly, "Why don't you look behind you?"

Slowly, Aya managed to turn his head under the oppression of the force pinning him to the floor. He could see Sakura, arm outstretched as though she were reaching for something. Her eyes glowed and her face was strained from exertion. Did that mean she was the one holding him down? Had she developed those powers as well?

"Don't interfere, Aya-san," she said softly, her voice having acquired an ethereal undertone, "Please... I don't want to hurt you." Aya pushed against the floor to no avail; instead of pushing himself up, he simply ground his palms into the glass shards on the carpet. Grimacing, he finally capitulated and did as he was told.

He watched silently, a cold and furious look painting his face as Sakura stood. Instead of being as shaky and unstable as she had been before, however, she rose gracefully, almost ghostlike. Aya watched as she began to walk towards Nagi, her feet barely touching the glass-littered floor. He could hardly see her eyes, in such an uncomfortable position as he was, but he could see that they looked vaguely empty. In a hazy way, her eyes seemed to focus on Nagi, and his on hers. Aya had no idea what it was, but he knew there was definitely something transpiring between the two of them. It almost looked as though Nagi was calling her to him.

What happened next reminded Aya of a Noh play in some eerie way. The ghostly, delicately graceful, and yet horrible images began to imprint themselves in his mind. Sakura stepped up to Nagi, her sheer slip of a nightgown fluttering behind her as she neared the broken glass doors. Blank-faced, she stared up at the boy for a mere moment before falling to her knees in a reverent bow. For a second, Aya wondered if she hadn't fainted; she looked as though she were a marionette whose strings had been cut.

"My lord," she said breathlessly. At the sound of her voice, Aya knew that she was still conscious.

Without actually touching her, Nagi ran his hand along the top of her head, and down the side of her face. A finger traveled underneath her chin and tipped it up, causing her to look directly at him. Aya saw him smile; it was a smile that didn't rightly belong on a human being.

Two white, trembling hands moved from the floor to embrace Nagi's hand as Sakura pressed her cheek against it in reverence.

"Are you ready to be delivered?" he asked, his voice barely more than an airy whisper.

"Yes." Aya barely heard her say it; it was almost as if she'd breathed the answer instead.

"Then stand," he commanded softly. Sakura released his hand and once again seemed to float to a standing position. As she waited, Nagi's left hand traveled to his belt. Aya could barely see the glint of a knife as he pulled it from the waist of his pants. Once again, he felt as though he were watching the events of two and a half years ago all over again, only in a different place. And yet again, he was trapped, unable to do anything; the only thing he could do now was to watch.  
The blade of the knife, much to Aya's surprise, sliced across the palm of Nagi's right hand. It left a solid black line over the width of his hand. Then, after tucking the knife back underneath his belt, he lifted his oozing palm toward Sakura. As if by instinct, she lifted her own left hand and placed it against Nagi's, their fingers coiling together.

Aya watched, aghast, as an inky black spike protruded from the back of Sakura's hand. Just as quickly as it came, it was gone, leaving Aya to wonder if the boy actually had enough control over his own black blood to use it against another person as a weapon. He stopped wondering, however, when he felt a few of the icy drops from the gash on Sakura's hand land on his cheek. The blood was so cold that it almost burned.

Slowly, he could see the black gash on the back of Sakura's hand try to heal itself. The edges began to seal quickly, but began to slow suddenly before stopping completely. The black, tar-like blood began to become more viscous, a few drops sliding down the back of her hand. The fluid continually became thinner until it was the consistency of normal blood, flowing freely down Sakura's forearm and dripping from her elbow. As it poured from the gashes on either side of her hand, the blackness seemed to drain out of the blood, replaced by a deep maroon color. This, too, slowly faded to a dark, deep red.

As her blood returned to normal, Sakura's face lost its blank, pale stare. Aya could see a barely noticeable wince at first, only to watch her slam her eyes shut against the pain a second later. She gasped and began making a shrill noise deep in her throat. Her eyes snapped open as the small, shrill noise rose to a scream. There was a progression as fast as quicksilver, but Aya saw every millisecond of it; her pupils took up nearly every fraction of her large, golden eyes. They quivered for a second before being nearly reduced to mere pin-pricks. The irises shrunk as well, returning to their normal, round shape. Sakura's eyes quickly faded through a spectrum of colors, first pale yellow, then green, then light blue, and on to their normal pale violet color.

Aya watched, paralyzed, as her eyes fell shut and her body fell to the floor. Only now, instead of being as graceful and light as she had appeared before, Sakura's body looked leaden and clumsy as she fell. It nearly seemed as though time had slowed, replaying those same events from a similar night years ago. There was a sickening, almost wet 'thump' when she hit the floor. Blood began to soak through the carpeting as the wounded hand that was currently folded beneath her continued to bleed.

Finally, Aya could no longer feel the force that was pinning him to the floor. To test this, he extended his arm to Sakura, reaching out for her. Yes, he could move now; he grazed the back of her head with his fingertips.

The sound of heavy breathing and grunting snapped Aya's eyes away from the broken girl on the floor. A few feet away from her, the boy was standing with his head in his hands, clutching his hair. He stumbled backward, making those familiar crunching noises with his footsteps.  
Suddenly, his head snapped up, his freakish golden eyes flickering from beneath unruly black bangs. Aya realized as their eyes locked that there was nothing even remotely human in them anymore. Only looking at those eyes placed an icy touch at the base of his spine. Aya continued to stare, frozen, as the boy's posture straightened and a maniacal grin began to spread across his face.

"Don't look so sad, Weiß," Nagi said, his voice nearly completely changed into something very close to a hollow echo, "We'll see each other again soon." It almost seemed as though his ethereal smile lingered behind him as he turned and walked toward the glass doors. His footsteps crunched with broken glass until he reached the balcony. Aya saw him jump up, but before he could see where he'd gone, it was as though the sky had decided to open up and pour torrents of cold rain just at that second.

The noise of the pouring rain brought Aya back to the present. Scrambling to his knees, he approached Sakura carefully, nearly afraid to touch her. He could see, though, that her hand was bleeding badly, forming a damp, dark red puddle on the carpet underneath her. Kneeling above her, Aya quickly assessed that the only injuries she had were those she'd been given on her hand. Almost instinctively, he knew he'd have to stop the bleeding, though.

Carefully, he rolled Sakura over onto her back and then gathered her onto his lap, leaning her head against his chest. Quickly surveying his surroundings, Aya grabbed the first large piece of cloth he saw, a piece of the tattered curtains, and pulled fiercely at it. The damaged cloth tore easily, giving Aya something he could apply pressure to Sakura's hand with. Several fluid seconds passed by in which Aya quickly wrapped her hand up tightly, pulled it above her heart, and began squeezing the pressure points on her wrist.

The frantic sound of the bedroom door slamming open barely registered with Aya. The shrill scream that came from the doorway, however, managed to get his attention.

"Ennosai-san!" he said, snapping his head around to look at her. Ennosai was indeed standing in the doorway, her skin having paled to a stark, ivory color. She leaned back against the doorframe, slowly sinking to her knees, her little white hands trembling violently in front of her face. Her eyes were almost inhumanly wide with fright, the pupils reduced to tiny specks.

"I - I tried to get in... when I heard the noise," she stammered softly, "The door was stuck... I... Oh, God..." Tears began to slip silently down her face as her knees finally hit the floor and Aya watched her uncertainly.

He had expected the woman to be furious that he'd let her daughter fall into harm's way, or more likely, to simply be hysterical from all the mess and blood and excitement. Instead, he almost thought it seemed like she was traumatized. Her reaction reminded him vaguely of someone undergoing a panic attack.

What seemed like several minutes passed, Aya uncertain whether he should say anything to her or not. Finally, he scooped the unconscious girl up in his arms and stood, trying to keep the pressure on her hand as best he could.

"We need to get her to someplace warm," he said softly, walking toward Ennosai. The older woman responded with an upward look, snapping out of her daze and nodding.

"Put her in my room," Ennosai responded, her voice shaky.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Aya stared out at the wet road in front of him. The windshield wipers of his car moved at an incredible rate of speed to try and keep up with all the rain they were being forced to contend with. Streetlights flashed one after the other into the car, only to pass back out as quickly as they'd come. Aya shifted gears and pressed the gas harder. Gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles had turned white, Aya stubbornly kept his eyes on the road. He turned the events of the evening over in his mind, remembering what had happened before he left the Tomoe house.

Once Sakura had been laid in Ennosai's bed and properly bandaged, he had turned to study the woman. She had kept her distance, trailing after him like a specter as he carried her daughter into the bedroom. Her face kept that disturbing pallor all the while, her little hands shaking to accompany it. Delicately, she continuously dabbed at her forehead with a small handkerchief.  
Finally, Ennosai had noticed he'd been looking at her.

"I..." he began, not quite sure what to say to her. In some way, she reminded him of his own mother; seeing her so upset had struck a chord with him. "I'm sorry."

"Fujimiya-san," she said softly, padding over in her stockinged feet, watching the floor as she did so, "Tell me..." Ennosai lifted one of her pale, slender hands and grabbed the sleeve of Aya's sweater, tugging it pleadingly. "The school at Sendai," she breathed nervously, "These sorts of things follow people who've been there... You're not just a florist, are you?" Aya remained calm outwardly, but inside he finally knew his suspicions had been correct. She knew about Kritiker.

"You should try to keep her warm," he said quietly, avoiding her eyes as he placed a hand on Sakura's forehead. It was no longer cold; instead, her skin was pleasantly warm, just shy of being feverish. At the touch of his hand, her eyes opened a crack and focused on him.

"Aya-san," she whispered, slowly lifting her uninjured hand to touch his, "When did you get here?" So she didn't remember what had happened that night clearly at all. He wondered how far back the gap in her memories extended. Hesitantly, he leaned closeby over her, closing his eyes.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered softly, "You've been through a lot. You need your rest." He placed a light kiss on her forehead as her eyes fell shut in compliance.

Aya looked out at the road, the wipers failing to clear the heavy rain completely off the windshield. He gripped the wheel tighter, glaring, angry with himself. Sometimes it seemed as if his mere presence brought tragedy. Moreover, he had failed to rid himself of his feelings for Sakura. Instead of giving him absolution, his visit had only made things worse.

She was safe now, though. He reminded himself of this, and that he now had no need at all to go back. She never had to be involved in his world again. She was once again safe, just like his sister.

Even so, he could feel the hatred of that black haired boy coiling around his heart again. He wasn't sure if he was all that angry at him for what he'd done with Sakura tonight; in all actuality, he was vaguely aware that the boy's actions had saved her life in some way. But the hatred of that boy festered, nonetheless. He figured it mostly had to do with what Schwarz had tried to do with his sister several months ago.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Aya reached up to the visor above his head and pulled a cell phone that had been clipped there down. Barely bothering to glance at the keypad, he pressed several buttons in rapid succession, their keytones piercing the quiet of his car. As he lifted the receiver to his ear, he could hear the rings that meant the call had gone through. They stopped suddenly to let him know that someone on the other end had picked up.

"Hello?" a husky female voice came through the phone.

"Manx, it's Abyssinian," Aya said firmly.

The recipient of the call, meanwhile, was a few districts away in the flat she shared with a co-worker. She had just emerged from the shower after making a quick detour through the kitchen for a bowl of mango ice cream. As a matter of fact, she was still dressed in her bathrobe, a fluffy, white terrycloth thing, with her bright red hair twisted into a towel on top of her head.

"It's a little late to be social, isn't it?" she asked, shouldering the phone as she emerged into a small but well-lit living room. The pristine white walls matched her robe and were lined with tidy shelves loosely decorated with knickknacks, books, cds, and dvds. A few paintings and prints were hung about the room, coordinated to match the black couch that lined the wall and the gold-plated light fixture that hung from the center of the ceiling. Across from the couch was a flat-screen television connected to a dvd player, and upon the couch sat another woman. This one was also clad in a bathrobe, her wet black hair unfettered by any towel. She looked up from the television screen as Manx entered the room. As she waited for her caller to reply, Manx tucked a small spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"It's not social," Aya corrected stonily, "It's about what we talked about last night."

"Ah," she replied, swallowing the cold lump of ice cream, "So you went to see her?"

"Yes," Aya said, his tone icy, "I saw one of the Schwarz there." Manx dropped her spoon into the bowl of ice cream with a 'clank'.

"Our intelligence concluded they were all dead," Manx said, regaining her composure and narrowing her eyes.

"It was the same boy," Aya answered pointedly, "The youngest one. I need you to meet me at the trailer. We need to talk about this."

"I'll get dressed and be right over," Manx said, stirring the quickly melting ice cream.

"See you there," Aya said, pulling the phone away from his ear and ending the call.

Manx took the phone from her shoulder and pressed the button that would hang it up. She gave the woman on the couch an apologetic look.

"Duty calls, Kyoko," she said with a shrug, spooning more ice cream into her mouth. The black haired woman smiled.

"So much for movie night," her roommate answered, "Want me to tag along?" Manx removed the spoon from her mouth, her countenance becoming more serious.

"With what Abyssinian just said, it might be best," she said, placing the bowl of ice cream on the low table that sat in front of the couch, "He saw one of Schwarz." The black haired woman's expression didn't change much, but Manx noticed it; she could tell the other woman was surprised.

"We'd better get dressed," Birman finally said.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The blue-haired girl had been lying in bed for several hours now, but still had not managed to fall asleep. Her mind was too full of distracting thoughts. Nagi had said that everything would be over after tonight and she wouldn't have to worry anymore. She couldn't figure out what he'd meant by that, but it worried her that it was so late and he wasn't there. She had even left the desk light on for him so he could see when he came back. But it hadn't done any good - it was quite late and he still wasn't there.

If he were simply in the other room, playing on the computer like usual, she wouldn't worry in the least. Instead, she had no idea where he was. What if he wound up like Hel, Schoen, Neu, and Papa? What if he just never came back?

Tot felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes again. It wasn't the first time that night, but she hoped it would be the last. She hated this waiting. She hated not knowing what was going on around her. It was starting to make her feel sick. She hugged Rabbi-chan tighter and wished Nagi-kun would come home soon.

'If Nagi-kun comes home,' Tot thought to herself, 'I don't care what he's like anymore. I just want him to come back. I'd let him do whatever he wanted - I'd even let him touch me - if he'd just come home!'

Tot began to cry softly. A few seconds later, however, she was interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps in the hallway outside her and Nagi's room. She blinked the tears out of her eyes and looked over to the door. Sure enough, she could see shadows dancing in the sliver of light coming from beneath the door.

Without further preamble, the door burst open and Nagi ran through the frame, a look of crazed delight on his face. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, grinning a lop-sided grin at Tot. Confused, but relieved, Tot sat up in bed, wiping her tears on the back of her pajama sleeve.

"Nagi-kun?" she asked, not quite sure what was going on.

"Tot, it is!" he said, his voice almost cracking with laughter as he spoke, "It is me! I'm myself again!" Tot's earlier confusion was replaced with fresh fear. Regardless of what he said, Tot could tell that Nagi was not quite himself.

"Nagi-kun, what's wrong?" she asked, apprehension starting to show in her voice. In one quick motion, Nagi sprang from the door, ran to the bed, and grabbed Tot, kissing her deeply. Nervously, she kissed him back.

"Nothing!" he gasped as he pulled away from her, "Nothing and everything! He's still... he's still here, inside of me, all of him, but... He finally shut up! I satisfied him!" He kneeled in front of the bed and stroked Tot's loose hair as he talked, his gold eyes widening with joy. "He said it's a reward," Nagi continued, his voice trembling ecstatically, "I can think again, and my mind is quiet - I don't have to fight him!"

Tot looked doubtfully at Nagi. She wasn't sure what he was talking about, but she was fairly certain that it had to do with the voice she had started hearing herself several months ago. It had stopped abruptly a couple of weeks ago, but Tot wasn't quite sure why. She was just glad it was gone.

Grateful tears began to slip down Nagi's face as he stared up at her. Quickly, he scrambled into the bed, not even bothering to remove his old school uniform, and clambered onto Tot's lap. She fell gently backwards into the pillows she'd piled up at the head of bed as he curled up against her, burying his head between her breasts.

A small smile crept across Tot's face as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around Nagi. Small tears escaped her eyes as she looked down at him. The way he was curled in her lap reminded her of a little kitten. Maybe it was true? Maybe her Nagi-kun had finally come home?


	5. Silent Storm: Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** Alright, time for the fifth chapter! It looks as though this won't be the last chapter, though. I'm afraid it's going to run six chapters. I was hoping for five, but... oh, well. This chapter, like the last, will be pretty darned weird. Just so you're aware. Oh, and none of these guys belong to me. Almost forgot that part...

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter Five

The small RV was crammed almost to capacity. A red-headed man sat in the black recliner beside the front door, his fingers steepled and his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. Standing beside the recliner was an attractive black-haired woman wearing a form-fitting blue dress. She looked down at the young man brooding beside her, her wet, messy hair falling into her eyes in thin strands. In her right hand she held a tape recorder; the left hand rested on the back of the recliner.

Along the wall to the left of the recliner sat a large black couch. It was currently occupied by a red-haired woman dressed in a thin, pale green pantsuit with a young man on either side of her. Her hair, which usually bobbed around her face in large curls, was also wet and combed straight. It gave her a serious, more severe look.

The man to her right leaned against the arm of the couch, his blond head resting against the wall. He was dressed as though he had been out clubbing recently, his eyes partially hidden behind thin sunglasses and his shirt still hanging half-way open. In one hand he held a cigarette that he occasionally brought to his lips and smoked lazily. The other hand held a can of Kirin.

The young man to the redhead's left looked to be no older than seventeen, but wore the worried look of a man twice that age. His eyes rested on the man leaning forward in the recliner, his eyebrows arched in a manner that gave away his nervous disposition. He had obviously spent most of the wintery day inside at the computer, as was evidenced by the fact that he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts.

Apart from the rest of the RV's occupants, a brown-haired man rustled about in the trailer's little kitchen nook. He still wore the jeans and green jersey that he'd worn to work the flower shop that afternoon, not having bothered to change between then and now. After a few minutes of rummaging through cabinets and the refrigerator, he emerged into the tiny living room with a plate in hand.

The redhead in the recliner stared blank-faced as a plate with four cold, leftover onigiri was shoved right before his face.

"Here," Ken said sternly, "Eat this." Violet eyes flickered up at him from beneath bright red bangs.

"I'm not hungry," Aya remarked quietly.

"You've not eaten since yesterday," Ken pointed out, "Starving yourself isn't going to help anyone. Eat, and then tell us what happened."

Aya took the plate, a sour look on his face. It wasn't as though he had been starving himself on purpose. He had simply forgotten to eat or sleep. With the hours he normally kept, it was understandable. Besides that, he hated eating in front of other people.

Reluctantly, he took a small bite of the onigiri. Satisfied, Ken walked to the other side of the room and leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. Aya lowered the onigiri from his mouth and as soon as he finished chewing, he spoke again.

"I can talk between bites," he said quietly, an irritated edge coloring his voice, "I want to get this over with quickly." The redhead on the couch nodded, as did her partner with the tape recorder. The black-haired woman clicked the 'record' button.

"Then please begin," Birman remarked, lowering her hand to get the recorder closer to Aya's voice.

"After the conversation I had with Manx last night," he began, "I went to visit her tonight."

"Tomoe Sakura," Manx clarified. Aya nodded.

"Yes," he affirmed stiffly, "She had the same symptoms that Manx described: low body temperature, weakness. I didn't observe the coughing personally, although I did see the black fluid Manx mentioned. It was her blood." Omi flinched a bit and Manx 'hmm'ed her acknowledgment.

Aya closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, the disturbing memory of Nagi 'dancing' with Sakura flickering through his mind again. He took another bite of the onigiri, giving himself time to regain his composure. After swallowing, he continued.

"She had developed other symptoms, too," Aya went on, "She appeared to be paranoid and claimed to have been hearing a voice talking to her for the past few months. Her eyes had also changed." He took another bite of the onigiri, finishing it off completely.

"How had they changed?" Manx asked, trying to clarify for Birman's recording.

"The irises were larger," Aya began hesitantly, "And yellow. The pupils were cat-like in appearance, with vertical slits. When dilated, there was little noticeable difference, but when constricted, they were easily distinguishable. I've never seen a human being with eyes like that before." The last sentence was spoken softly before Aya trailed off completely. He narrowed his eyes, remembering her bulging, fearful eyes. Just another part of the entire, bewildering, disturbing equation. As a distraction, Aya picked up one of the remaining onigiri and took a bite.

"Please go on," Manx prompted, watching as he swallowed, "You said you saw one of Schwarz. Why was he there?" Aya placed the onigiri back onto the plate and rested his arm on the armrest of his chair. He leaned his mouth into his hand and spoke from behind it.

"He came in after I saw her eyes," Aya continued, "It was the youngest one - I think his name's Nagi. He broke through the glass door on the patio outside her room. He didn't physically strike it, though. He laid his hand on it and it blew inward. When he came into the room, I could see that he had the same kind of eyes as she did." Manx nodded. The rest of the room sat enthralled by his story.

"When I tried to defend her, though," Aya went on, staring at his onigiri and avoiding the eyes of the room's occupants, "She used some kind of... psychic force to hold me down." Manx leaned forward, her gaze growing intent.

"So," she said pointedly, "You're saying she had developed some sort of mental powers?" Aya didn't look up.

"Yes," he replied, "We already know from experience that Schwarz has them. It seems logical that she received them from whatever was possessing her." Aya stalled by taking another bite of the onigiri. He didn't want to think again about what he had to say next. But eventually, he finished chewing and had to speak again.

"The boy had a knife with him," he went on, still staring at the plate, "He used it to cut his own hand while she held me down. They put their hands together, and it looked like... it looked like he stabbed her with his blood."

"He what?!" Youji snorted into his beer, almost spitting it out his through his nose.

"But... how?" Omi asked, clearly puzzled.

"If it were anyone but Aya telling us this," Ken remarked, looking at the others, "I'd say they were full of crap."

"Would you boys please quieten down?" Birman spoke for the first time since she'd begun recording, "I'm trying to maintain the integrity of this recording for documentation. It might be important later." Manx, trying to reinforce what Birman had just said, cleared her throat.

"By saying he stabbed her with his blood," Manx clarified, "Are you saying that he can physically control his own blood enough to use it as a weapon against another person?" Aya continued looking at the plate intently.

"Yes," he replied, "When he did it, I felt some of her blood hit me. It was as cold as ice. After that, it looked like he... sucked the blackness out of her wound. Her blood became red again and her eyes changed back to normal. I also believe she lost whatever mental powers she had developed, because she could no longer hold me down. As soon as he was done, she passed out." Aya picked up the onigiri again, taking another small bite off of it.

"And he left after that?" Manx asked, prompting him to continue. Aya swallowed the bit of onigiri he'd been chewing and glanced up at her.

"Yes," Aya confirmed, "Her symptoms were gone then. Her body temperature and eyes returned to normal almost immediately." Omi, who looked to be deep in thought up until that moment, spoke up.

"This is weird. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing that Schwarz is usually involved in," Omi said, a look in his eyes that said that he was processing all the information he'd just been given, "Usually, they're just instigating anarchy or kidnapping people... You don't think this has something to do with that ceremony they tried to perform, do you? You remember, when they tried to revive that ghost, or demon, or whatever it was?" Ken gave him a skeptical look.

"I thought that ceremony of theirs was just a bunch of superstitious nonsense, though," Ken noted, "Nothing they did really would have worked, would it?" Youji, who hadn't seemed to be paying attention up until that point, took a drag from his cigarette before replying.

"But remember," he pointed out, "They wanted to put the ghost into Aya's sister's body, but they got Sakura instead. And they were at least half-way through with her by the time we got there."

"That's right," Omi said thoughtfully, "Who's to say their ceremony wasn't at least a little successful? Maybe they were just trying to get that spirit into one of their own guys, instead of leaving it in someone they couldn't control?"

"If that's what's going on," Ken said, his skeptical look still showing through, "Then this definitely makes a little more sense." Omi nodded.

"It also means we're in a lot of trouble if Schwarz has gained that much power," Omi added, rubbing the back of his head as he remembered being on the receiving end of some of that very same power, several months prior, "They'll come after us eventually." Youji smirked, placing his cigarette between his lips and folding his arms behind his head.

"And to think," he remarked, perhaps with a touch of arrogance, "If Aya had just listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't be in this situation." Everyone else turned to stare at him, curious as to what he was talking about. Aya, who had been quiet during their discussion, glanced over, his dark violet eyes flickering.

"What are you talking about?" Aya asked, exasperated from the entire ordeal.

"I told you that you were being a cold fish to Sakura," Youji said, grinning slyly, "If you'd have given her a little more attention in the first place, she'd never have wandered off and gotten kidnapped. And we wouldn't be sitting here discussing this right now."

There was a loud clatter as the plate that was sitting on Aya's knees hit the floor unbroken, strewing onigiri across the living room. In a fraction of a second, he was on his feet, his hand wound in Youji's shirt collar, dragging him to a standing position. Aya hauled the blond up to his eye level.

"Mind your own damned business," Aya hissed, his dark eyes flashing with an angry gleam.

"Both of you, stop it. _Now_," Manx commanded, rising and stepping between the two men, "Aya, back off. You're lucky you got out of that situation without so much as a scratch. Stop pushing your luck. Youji, you're out of line. Stop letting your alcohol speak for you. We don't need that right now." Aya looked at Manx. The look on her face told him that she was utterly serious. Reluctantly, he let go of Youji's collar, ignoring the glare the other man was giving him.

"I'm not drunk," Youji protested quietly. Manx directed a look at him that clearly meant that she wanted him to shut up.

Aya stooped to collect the plate he'd dropped, ignoring everyone else for a moment. He swore to himself for getting so worked up over such a stupid comment. Youji said asinine things roughly half the time, anyway; why should he have gotten angry over that one? He gathered the ruined onigiri onto the plate and stood back up. Staring at the plate, he realized that he had gotten irritated simply because Youji had hit so close to his own feelings on the matter. It was an inexcusable outburst, though. He'd have to be more careful about things like that in the future.

"I've told you everything," Aya said, turning to Manx, "If there's nothing else you need, I'm excusing myself." Manx lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"No, I stopped recording a few minutes ago," Birman replied, folding her arms, "We have the information we need. Thanks for your cooperation." Aya looked over at her for a second before turning and heading to the kitchen. He dumped the wasted onigiri into the trash, placed the dirty plate in the sink, and walked back to the living room in silence. As he left the room, the silence seemed to settle over the other occupants watching him go as well.

Finally, after a few awkward minutes, Omi spoke up.

"I'm going to do a little research to see if anything else like this has turned up recently," he said, sounding tired, "But this is bad. We can't be bickering amongst ourselves when we don't even know how strong the enemies we're up against are."

"I was only joking with him," Youji said defensively, flopping back onto the couch, "Leave it to Aya to take offense at some totally harmless comment." Manx glared down at him.

"If that was your idea of a joke, it wasn't funny," she observed coldly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Exhausted as he was, sleep didn't come easily for Aya. He tossed and turned in his narrow bed, first winding himself in his sheets, then flinging them off into the floor entirely. His temperature shifted in accordance with wherever the sheets found themselves, as well: when covered, he found himself to be unbearably hot, but when uncovered, he thought he might freeze to death.

This didn't surprise Aya any, though. With the disturbing, unwelcome images from that night replaying themselves in his mind constantly, sleep was hard to attain anyway. He felt painfully aware of every little thing, every little noise from the other room. Finally, though, sleep did come, bringing with it frightful dreams full of those same haunting images. Only instead of a simple replay, his dreams took the images and twisted them into even more terrible, more frightening monstrosities.

Dazed and dreaming, Aya could see himself standing in a shallow, endless red river. Regardless of any indication, he knew where it had come from: it was the blood of those he'd murdered. It was his own hidden guilty conscience.

He looked down at his feet and at the red liquid flowing over them. They were bare and he was clad in what he'd worn to bed - a pair of soft white pants and a white tank top. The blood soaked up through the hems of his pants like a wick and slowly spread up his legs. A few speckles of it colored his shirt here and there, although he didn't know exactly why. And the worst part, he thought objectively, was that through all of these visions, he could not feel horror. All he felt was a general, detached apathy and a slight revulsion at the smell of the blood.

Looking up, Aya could see someone standing off in the distance. He slogged through the river, feeling it travel up his legs as it got deeper. The person he saw seemed to get closer at an inordinate amount of speed for how far he'd walked, though. It seemed as though he'd barely taken five steps before the river was up to his knees and he could see the person clearly.

In all actuality, he could see that it was not one person he was looking at, but two, one holding the other. The one being held was clearly Sakura, a frightened and helpless look on her face. Her pleated blue skirt was torn in places, almost to the point of being unrecognizable, and her yellow overshirt was gone. The white blouse that she wore underneath her school uniform was open and unbuttoned, speckled in places with her own blood. Even farther from normal, however, were the red poppies he saw twisted in her hair. He could also see the tears on her cheeks and hear her whimpering, but failed to feel anything other than apathy.

The one holding her was a little less clear, but he knew instantly that it was the boy from earlier, Nagi. Instead of gray, however, his uniform was black. Hair fell over his large, slanted, sinister-looking, gold eyes, but Aya could still see them plainly. The boy had wrapped his arms around Sakura from behind, one coiling around her waist and the other holding her under her arm. His fingers appeared inhumanly long, more like talons than normal appendages; Aya could even see the tips digging into her flesh, small rivulets of blood springing up from beneath them. A cruel smirk colored the boy's half-hidden face as he moved his lips along her shoulder.

"Do you want her?" he asked, his voice clearly inhuman. Aya noticed that he hadn't moved his mouth when he spoke, either.

"Yes," he answered. It felt like someone else speaking, even though he felt that word come from his own mouth. He didn't know why he'd said it, either. He didn't want anything at the moment, couldn't conceive of caring enough either way about anything to want anything. He watched the boy's smirk get even wider.

"Then take her," the boy replied, shoving Sakura forward through the river, "Do whatever you want with her." The girl emitted a small whimper as her forward momentum carried her stumbling across the water and over to Aya. She collided with him, her face pressing into his chest as if to hide from what was happening. He barely felt the impact and looked down at her, ignoring the boy as he seemed to vanish. Her little hands clutched at his shirt pleadingly as she began to sob. Looking at her, he still felt nothing, still felt cold inside.

"Aya-san," she whimpered into his shirt, "Please don't hurt me..." It almost felt as though he were watching someone else, or that he was not in his own body as his hands traveled around her waist and up her back. Finally, they lighted in her hair on either side of her face, his fingers twisting the short strands of brown hair around themselves. Without knowing the reasons why, he jerked her head back, forcing her face up to look at him. If at all possible, he thought her expression had grown even more frightened. Even though he knew he'd normally be repulsed by it, he found himself enjoying her terror.

For the first time in the dream, a wicked smile began to spread across his face. She began to cry louder, gasping for breath, as he threw her backward. She stumbled for a moment before falling on her back. Instead of landing in the river, however, she landed on a large slab of stone that protruded from it, standing only a few centimeters out of the blood. Aya had no idea where it had come from, only that it had appeared.

As Sakura fell on her back, her head hit the stone hard, the poppies in her hair coming loose and scattering themselves around her on the table. A second more, and Aya was upon her, straddling her waist, his hands pressing her shoulders into the stone slab. She dared not struggle and he could feel that. Instead, she whimpered, pleading with him. He knew she was talking and crying, but it all seemed to blend together into one long, unintelligible sob.

Ignoring her completely, he explored her shoulders, breasts, and stomach with his hands. Her skin was as soft as down, and he watched as small, purple bruises sprang up everywhere he touched. Both the feel of her skin and the colorful bruises delighted him, although once again, he had no idea why.

He leaned closer over her, one hand traveling underneath her ruined shirt. His fingers lightly brushed a small, hard knot on her breast. Grinning as her protests grew louder and more frantic, he caught the little piece of flesh between his fingers, pinching it. Her hands raced up, pressing against his chest, trying to push him away. She began to struggle, unable to budge him.

Growing irritated with her, Aya placed his hands on her shoulders again, pinning her down. Her nails began to dig into his chest, burying themselves in his skin. He watched as small drops of the black blood he'd seen earlier that night fell from his wounds, splattering Sakura's already-stained white shirt. Her crying and pleading got louder, fresh tears springing from her eyes and winding down her already red face. Aya still couldn't make out what she was saying, though; it all sounded like a jumbled mass of sound, running together and infuriating him more. All his mind could formulate was the desire to silence her.

He watched, still detached, as his hands traveled up to her neck, fingers wrapping firmly around it. He savored the look of horror in her eyes as he began to squeeze. Seconds ticked slowly by as the lovely, purple blotches began to spread out underneath his fingers. Grinning, enjoying her choked and quiet pleas, he squeezed harder.

Finally, Sakura ceased to struggle. Her hands slid down Aya's chest, limp. He watched calmly as her half-lidded eyes slowly clouded over through her tears. The hands around her neck loosened their grip and he leaned back, surveying his work.

He searched, but still couldn't find any emotion toward the dead girl that lay beneath him. The only thing Aya felt at the moment was a vague feeling of satisfaction.

Aya woke with a start. He sat up in the bed in a rush, and he wasn't absolutely sure of it, but he thought that he might have been screaming. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. In this manner, he gently rocked back and forth for a few seconds before glancing over to his alarm clock. The digital numbers shone a ghastly red against the darkness, reading 2:00 am.

The intensity of the red assaulting his eyes reminded Aya of the dream. Just thinking of it sickened him. Why on earth would he dream anything like that? He was no stranger to nightmares of blood and killing, but he had never had one anything like that. He hadn't even thought of touching an innocent woman that violently, and especially not that intimately, in his waking hours; he couldn't even begin to fathom why he'd dreamed of it. The fact that he'd dreamed of Sakura disturbed him even more. He had never dreamed of her at all, let alone in such a disgusting manner.

Aya felt his stomach churn. There was barely anything on it at all, but he felt like what he'd already eaten that night was going to come up. He continued to feel nauseous for a few more seconds, huddling against his knees, before he sprang from his small bed and raced to the bathroom.

Several minutes passed and Aya found himself leaning against the cold, porcelain toilet, the meager contents of his stomach having found their way inside it. He still had no idea why he'd dreamed what he did, and getting rid of the food he'd eaten hadn't made him feel any less sick. He knew Ken's onigiri hadn't been bad, so it wasn't that. The only thing he could think of was that he hadn't eaten enough in the past two days, and that he shouldn't have gone to bed on an empty stomach. Either that, or it was just his mind's way of working through everything while he slept. The bizarre nature of the dream made him doubt that, though.

'I enjoyed it,' he thought, leaning his cheek against the toilet's tank and slumping down against the cold floor, 'That was the worst part. I know I enjoyed it.'

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Tot was awakened by a shrill, loud scream. For a few seconds, she didn't know where she was, or what she should do. The horrible noise frightened her, causing her to yelp in surprise. She looked around frantically for the source of the pained scream. As she looked around, Tot noticed that Nagi was no longer curled up against her like he was when she went to sleep.

The light from the bedside lamp fell across the room, leading Tot's eyes to a huddled, shaking figure kneeling in the floor. It was Nagi, and he was the one screaming. He clutched his head as though he thought it would split open at any second, tears spilling from his eyes. As Tot listened, she realized that his screaming wasn't unintelligible at all: he was actually forming words and sentences.

"I'm sorry!" he wailed pitifully, "Stop it! Please! I'm sorry, I'll fix it! I didn't know! I didn't know! Please!" Frightened and fearing that Nagi was in terrible pain, Tot got out of bed. She teetered clumsily for a second before gaining her balance and taking a step toward him. Nagi's head snapped up, his large, golden eyes fixing on her.

"Stay back!" he screamed, his inhumanly wide eyes showing his concern, "He's angry with me! I forgot something!" Tot grimaced, frightened and frustrated because she didn't know what to do.

"Nagi-kun," she whimpered, "What can I do to make it stop hurting?" Instinctively, she took a step away from Nagi.

"There's nothing you can do," he said, finally calming down, sweat pouring down his face, "Just go back to sleep. I'm going to go fix it." Breathing heavily, Nagi pushed himself off the floor clumsily.

Tot watched, horribly worried as he stumbled over to the door and rested his hand on the knob.

"Don't worry, Tot," Nagi finally breathed, "Go back to sleep. It'll all be over soon. I promise. Just wait a bit longer." She watched as he opened the door and stepped through.

"I'll try, Nagi-kun," she whispered as the door closed with a 'click', "I'll do it for you."

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The living room of the small, crowded RV was dark with the exception of the reading light that Omi had left on. The blond young man was currently curled up on the end of the couch that Youji had been sitting on hours before. His laptop rested on his knees, as his desktop computer was located in the bedroom and everyone was trying to sleep right then. He knew that his loud and rapid keystrokes would keep them up.

The laptop was plugged into a cable modem, a wire running from it to the wall. Omi could well have used a dial-up, but didn't want the lag time that accompanied one of those connections. Even so, he'd been at it for several hours now and hadn't managed to come up with a whole lot of information. As it was, it was nearing three o'clock

Omi didn't look up from his screen when he heard feet shuffling through the living room. Even as slow as they were, from the sound of the footsteps, he could tell they belonged to Aya

"Couldn't sleep?" Omi asked, eyes focused on the line of text he was reading. He listened as Aya flopped into the black recliner he liked to occupy so well. When he received no answer, he continued talking. "After what you saw tonight, I don't blame you," Omi remarked, clicking his mouse.

"I don't want to talk about that," Aya said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Omi worried about his reaction for a second before continuing.

"Well, I managed to find something," he went on, bringing up the file, "It's not much, but it's the best I could find." He heard Aya turn his head against the leather upholstery, presumably to look at him.

"What is it?" he asked dryly.

"About three weeks ago," Omi replied, reading from the file, "A boy matching Nagi's description and a girl matching the description of the youngest member of Schreient were involved in a similar incident in a school yard. Three boys were injured, one of them sustaining fatal injuries. The details are sketchy, but what you described was there: the gold eyes, the weird powers."

"If she has that, too," Aya said quietly, "Then we're in even worse trouble than we thought." Omi's brows knitted together as he continued to read.

"Like I said," he continued, "Details were sketchy. The school's administration declared it an accident and didn't believe the survivors' story." Aya remained silent, turning his head away from Omi. He was obviously tired of thinking about the whole mess.

The sound of whirring as the laptop began to compute something startled Omi. Aya heard it, but didn't think anything of it until Omi spoke up.

"This is really odd," Omi said, his worry starting to show through in his voice, "Someone's forcing a file transfer through the cable modem. I don't have any messaging services open right now - we're being hacked! I've not set up as many firewalls on this machine, but it still shouldn't be possible!" Aya turned to look at Omi as the boy sat, watching his monitor with a horrified look on his face.

"Is it them?" Aya asked.

"I don't know, but I'd bet on it," Omi replied, tapping a few keys and hitting his mouse button repeatedly, "The source of the transfer is scrambled, so I can't trace them back. How did they find us?!" He busied himself with a few more keystrokes, an angry gasp coming from deep within his throat as he stopped.

"It's a video file," he finally remarked, "I don't think they'd do something so harmless as sending us a virus. I'm going to play it." Interested, Aya stood and walked over to the couch, seating himself beside Omi. He leaned over to look at the screen as the file began to play.

The image that appeared was of the black-haired boy from earlier, still clad in his gray school uniform. He looked rumpled, irritated, his arms crossed on his chest. The image was grainy, obviously taken with a webcam, and the background was made up entirely of... stars?

"Greetings, Weiß," the boy remarked, his voice once again barely resembling anything human, "I have a message for one of your number." Aya narrowed his eyes as Omi continued to look perplexed.

"I thought he was the quiet one," Omi muttered, "He only seemed like he was being pulled along by the others. What's wrong with him?" Aya pointed to the screen.

"Look at his eyes," he said quietly, tapping the area beside Nagi's face, "That's what's wrong with him."

"You were right," Omi gasped, his eyes widening as he noticed the disturbing cat-slit pupils and golden irises.

"Tell Fujimiya Aya," Nagi continued firmly, "That I'll meet him tomorrow night at midnight at the location marked on the map I've included. I'll be alone. He should be as well. If he wants vengeance against Schwarz, for his sister or for Sakura, he needs to come get it from me." The boy smirked for a second before the screen flashed to a picture of a map showing the Shinjuku district, a large red 'X' marking the Shinjuku Gyoen.

"That's a park not far from here," Omi remarked, trying to formulate in his mind exactly how close they were to the area the map showed.

"Damn him," Aya growled, "He's baiting me!"

"That's obvious," Omi said thoughtfully, "Are you going to do it? It looks like a set up."

"Of course it's a set up," Aya responded gruffly, "And what other choice do I have?" Omi saved the map and closed the video file.

"We need a plan," he said firmly, "You can't just go in blind."

Aya continued to stare at the computer screen, a cold look coloring his face.


	6. Silent Storm: Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** Okay, I know I promised that this chapter would be the last one. However, it ran so long, and put me at least a day behind my uploading schedule. And since the file was so big, I decided to split it into two parts. And if you came back after that last chapter, I'm pretty sure you're a masochist. Oh, disclaimer. Right. None of these characters belong to me. There ya go.

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Chapter Six

From the outside of the house, one could barely see him.

A lone boy, no older than sixteen, with straight brown hair falling into large, inhuman, golden eyes, stared out the picture window into the night. His outfit, a plain, dark blue school uniform, was slightly rumpled, as though he'd tried to sleep in it and just hadn't bothered to change out of it yet.

Shifting his eyes, he looked down, bringing his wrist into view. His watch read 10:30. If he left now, he'd have a chance to make the train and be at his destination by midnight. The only question was, would he be able to get out of the house without any of his older teammates noticing him?

"Hey, kid," a slightly nasal voice spoke from behind him, "Where d'ya think you're going this time of night?"

Apparently not.

When the boy failed to respond, the red-haired man standing behind him in the green dinner jacket continued.

"Don't tell me," Schuldich said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "You're going out to take on Herr Fujimiya all by yourself. You know he'll run you through with that nasty sword of his." He didn't even have to turn around to know that Schuldich was using his normal, annoying smirk on him.

"Mind your own business, Schuldich," Nagi finally replied, moving away from the window and toward the hook his jacket rested on by the door. It looked like rain again tonight.

"You live with a precog and a telepath," another voice said, this one with more authority and less glee, "There's not much that isn't our business." Nagi realized, with more than just a touch of exasperation, that Crawford was indeed right.

"This doesn't involve either of you," he finally said, "I'd prefer if you didn't interfere."

"We won't interfere with your fight," Crawford replied, folding his arms over his chest, "But don't be so foolish as to assume he'll show up alone." Schuldich grinned slyly at Nagi as their white-haired teammate walked over, silently surveying the situation.

"Yeah, you know do-gooders travel in packs," Schuldich said, winking, "Besides, taking my car's better than the Metro any day." Nagi took his jacket off the hook by the door and hung it over his shoulder.

"Fujimiya is honorable enough," Nagi said, facing the door, "I don't expect he'll let his friends fight his battles for him." He reached for the doorknob, but the sound of a third voice stopped his hand.

"Nagi-kun," a sweet female voice came to join the others, "You can't go by yourself. It's dangerous." Nagi turned to look at Tot. What he saw surprised him.

Tot, like Schuldich, Crawford, and Farfarello, was dressed in her 'business attire' - her old Schreient outfit. Nagi had no clue where it had come from, but sure enough, she was wearing the familiar black boots, gloves, skirt and jacket, holding her sharp-tipped yellow parasol to her chest.

"You like that?" Schuldich asked, grinning, "I managed to 'acquire' those for her." He should have figured.

"Remember what you told me last time?" Tot asked, stepping up to Nagi and pouting angrily at him, "You said Weiß is too dangerous to fight. They took Papa, Neu, and Hel and Schoen away. I won't let them have Nagi-kun, too." Nagi sighed. He knew when he was defeated.

"Fine," he said, frustrated, running a hand through his hair, "Just don't interfere with my fight." Schuldich, Crawford, and Farfarello looked at each other, each smirking in turn. Tot cheered, flinging her arms around Nagi.

"They can't stop us if we all go together!" Tot said, smiling happily as she squeezed Nagi. He gently patted her back in return.

_Say,_ a voice intruded on Nagi's thoughts. He looked up; sure enough, Schuldich was looking at him intently. _There's not much of the 'real' Nagi left anymore, is there?_ His eyes flashed as he replied.

_What makes you ask?_ came the reply.

_The Nagi I know would never be arrogant enough to think he could take on Weiß by himself._ Nagi snorted at him.

_Well, he seems to think he's got control. _Nagi thought back at him, _But after tonight, he won't._

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

By five am, Aya had been more exhausted than he could remember having been in a very long time.

He dared not sleep, though, even though he knew he needed it. He didn't want to have to face another dream like the one he'd had earlier that night.

So finally, nearly on the verge of just passing out altogether, he asked Omi to mix him some sleeping medicine. A drugged sleep would be heavier, longer, and deeper than a normal one, with less chance of dreaming. Omi complied reluctantly, warning him that he'd be out nearly until time to leave for the Gyoen - the sedatives he had on hand were the ones used for tipping his tranquilizer darts and were quite powerful. With the state he was in, Aya could barely be bothered to care.

The combination of his own fatigue and the sedatives resulted in a long, deep, blessedly dream-free, fifteen and a half hour long sleep. By the time he had woke, showered, and ate, it was nearly eleven o'clock. It was time to get dressed and ready to go.

Aya slid his arm into the sleeve of his familiar, black leather coat. Lately, he'd taken to wearing a thick white one to fend off the cold, but for this meeting, he felt it was important to wear the old one. He zipped up the front, and then buckled each of the three buckles in turn before buckling the one around his waist. Feeling a momentary touch of nostalgia, he sat on the edge of his bed, bending to put his boots on. Since the floors of the RV were tough, his shoes wouldn't damage them any.

Once that was finished, Aya stooped beside his bed, reaching underneath it. He pulled out a long, black cylinder made of nylon. It was roughly a meter long, with a zipper extending around its circumference about ten centimeters from the top. Aya unzipped the top, folding it back to reveal the elaborately woven purple and black hilt of a sword.

Almost ceremoniously, he slid the katana out of its case, the light reflecting off its varnished black sheath. It had been given to him over two and a half years ago by his sword master, before his death. With it, he had claimed his family's vengeance and protected numerous lives. But to Aya, it really didn't seem that way; a sword was used for killing, a tool for a murderer.

He latched it to his belt and stood. Would it be used for killing tonight, or merely for dissuasion? He knew that would be up to Nagi to decide.

Secretly, Aya hoped that no matter what the outcome, the boy would explain this bizarre situation to him. He couldn't bring himself to care whether or not that boy lived or died, as much as he and his friends had already hurt those Aya loved and cared for. Even so, he also felt a bit of pity for the youngest member of Schwarz. He was likely possessed by something, but Aya had no way of knowing what; he just felt sure that the boy's actions were not entirely his own.

Pushing those thoughts out of his mind, Aya walked out of their sleeping quarters and down the hallway that would lead to the living room of the RV. As he emerged into the small living room, Aya saw each of his teammates waiting for him, dressed out in their battle gear.

Youji, like Aya, was dressed in his usual black trenchcoat. He stood waiting, smoking a cigarette to kill time. Ken and Omi, however, were dressed in their winter clothes.

Ken wore a deep green army vest over a long-sleeved gray shirt. His black pants and thick boots would also serve to keep him warm. His goggles and the bulky gloves that housed his bugnuks completed the outfit.

Even though his outfit was supposed to keep him warm, Omi still could not be persuaded to wear a pair of pants. Instead, he wore a pair of black biker shorts and black kneepads. The shorts were half-covered by a padded purple vest that was zipped up to cover a long-sleeved green shirt. Attached to his waist by a small strap was his crossbow, the arms folded to make it less conspicuous and cumbersome.

Then again, Aya reasoned as he noticed it, it wasn't as if being inconspicuous would be that important tonight. Even though there might still be a few stragglers in the park at this hour, there were many places in the Shinjuku Gyoen that were secluded enough for what they were possibly going to do.

"We called Manx and Birman," Omi said quietly as Aya came to stand before the three of them.

"What did they say?" Aya asked, looking directly at his younger teammate.

"They'll be there," Omi replied, "Birman is interested in whether Nagi will say anything to clarify what's been going on." Aya nodded his comprehension.

"Hey, Aya," Ken said, giving him a skeptical look, "You sure you're up to this? You don't look well. Omi said you were having a lot of trouble sleeping last night." Aya was taken a bit off-guard by Ken's question. The look the brunette gave him was a mix of worry and something very close to doubt.

"I'm fine," Aya replied dismissively, his eyes falling shut as if to block out the question.

"I heard you scream," Ken said, his voice quiet and to the point. Aya did not meet his accusing eyes.

"I said I'm fine," Aya said coldly, wanting to cut off any further discussion, "It was just a bad dream. Are we ready to go?" The other three nodded hesitantly and Aya began to walk for the door.

"Hey," Youji muttered around his cigarette as Aya passed him, causing the red head to stop, "I just wanted to say, I didn't mean what I said last night. I didn't think you'd take it personally." Aya once again lowered his gaze to the floor.

"Don't worry about it," he replied quietly. Aya recommenced walking toward the door, taking his car keys from his pocket.

It would be a quiet drive.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The pathway was dimly lit by evenly-spaced electric lamps. The trees were bare, their boughs having been bereft of leaves for at least two months and their flowers having deserted them several months prior. A sharp wind cut through the bare branches, causing them to rattle occasionally, as though they were shivering from the cold.

Aya looked up at them as he walked, their branches seeming almost like bony, skeletal fingers reaching toward the velvety, charcoal gray night sky. Off in the distance, through the bare trees, he could see the lights of the city, twinkling against the darkness. Once again, he could tell the moon was being obscured by clouds, its light serving as backlighting to their darkness. It looked like rain again

Looking down, Aya could see that he was nearing the spot that the map in his hand had marked. While he slept, Omi had printed him up a copy of the image file Nagi had sent them the night before. At the bottom of the map were instructions on where exactly in the large park they were to meet.

A few steps more, and Aya found himself coming into a large, better-lit clearing in the path. It was still surrounded by trees, but there were benches lining the walkway, and a small, grassy clearing off to the right-hand side. On the far end of one of the benches situated on the edge of the small knoll, sat a familiar-looking boy. He had his head bowed, as though deep in thought, the lightpost directly above him shadowing his face and obscuring it from view. Aya recognized him for his dark school uniform. It was him.

"You came," the boy said, turning his face toward Aya, "Fujimiya Ran." The light slowly cast itself across the boy's face, revealing a twisted grin. His dark brown hair fell across his golden eyes in small strands, their mere appearance causing him to look more demonic. Aya fought the urge to show his surprise, instead glaring at the flippant young man who had just used his real name.

"You really do have a death wish," Aya muttered, just loud enough to be heard, "Is that why you called me out here?" Nagi continued to grin at him as he stood.

"Actually, I called you out here to talk," came the reply, "And to fight, if that's what you want." Aya didn't move as the boy stepped closer to him.

"Not yet," he replied, standing his ground, "There are some things I want to know." Nagi continued to walk slowly toward him, but Aya refused to let it faze him. He would not be intimidated.

"Like?" Nagi asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.

"Like what happened last night," Aya said, "What you did with her. What was inside of her?" Nagi continued to grin at him as he took another step forward.

"With who? Tomoe Sakura?" he asked mockingly, putting undue emphasis on her name, as though he knew that Aya wouldn't use it, "Why? Did it give you nightmares?" Aya could feel his mask slip for a second, his shock getting the better of him. He knew he'd shown the boy how he'd surprised him. Cursing himself and his opponent, he regained his composure and resumed his glare.

"Were you responsible for that?" he hissed.

"Maybe," the dismissive reply came with a shrug, a wicked, lop-sided grin coloring Nagi's face, "But in answer to your question: it was me. I was inside of her." Aya tried to discern what he was talking about, but could only come to the conclusion that he was now speaking to whatever was inside of Nagi.

"Who are you?" Aya asked as the smaller young man stepped up to him, turning his face up to smirk at him.

"You may call me 'the Beast'," Nagi replied, reaching up and lightly touching the side of Aya's face, "That's not my real name, of course. But it will have to do. At least until we... know each other better." The cold fingers on his face sent chills down Aya's spine. Worse, the boy's proximity to his person made him quite uncomfortable; he wasn't sure of exactly why, either. He could tell if it was because of his touch, if it was because he was too close, or if it was merely his unnatural presence.

"Don't touch me," Aya breathed, glaring down at the boy, as he brushed his hand away. Nagi merely clucked his tongue in disapproval, neither flinching nor moving away.

"Very well. Is there anything else you would like to know?" Nagi asked, again sounding as though he were mocking him. As unnerving as the situation was, Aya still found himself becoming irritated at the young man.

"Why did you do it?" he found himself hissing again, "Why did you do that to her?" Nagi snorted, trying to hold back an amused laugh.

"Why did I do _what_?" Nagi asked, his condescending amusement becoming more evident and infuriating to Aya, "If you're asking why I would place myself inside of that girl, I didn't. The old fools at the Estet did that with their ceremony." Finally, the boy took a step back from Aya, turning away as he did so. "I have no interest in a weak creature like that," he said, his amusement fading to disdain, "She could only ever be good for one purpose." Aya knew what he was implying. Even though the boy's rudeness had begun to enrage him, he resolved not to let it show; if the Beast thought he could strike at Aya through a bed-ridden girl, Aya had few doubts that he'd try it.

"If you are asking why I had this boy remove that part of me from her body," he replied, looking back at Aya over his shoulder, "I much prefer this vessel to a woman's. Moreover, Naoe Nagi has exceptional abilities: telekinesis, an amazing intellect, technical and mechanical skills. Sadly, those are also the things that cause him to resist me so well. Were he a normal man, I would already have had free run of his facilities. I am also disappointed in his lack of physical prowess - I had hoped to find a man with at least some martial training." Aya watched as Nagi turned his body toward him again, this time a reasonable distance from him - at least three meters.

"Then," Aya said suspiciously, "What did you call me out here for?" The devious grin returned to Nagi's face as he reached for the belt of his pants. He produced with his left hand the same wicked table knife that Aya had seen the night before.

"You seem like the type that needs to be shown things instead of having them explained," Nagi replied calmly, his face clearly amused, as he slid the blade of the knife along the palm of his right hand. Once again, the stainless steel opened a long, black gash across the palm of his hand. The black fluid that served as his blood began to drip from his hand as he closed it into a fist. Instead of falling in separate drops, though, the thick black fluid formed a long, thin strand. Nagi squeezed his hand harder, causing more of the black blood to pour from his fist.

"It does take an awful lot of energy to do this, you understand," Nagi remarked as the blood continued to congeal into something solid, "If it weren't for Nagi's exceptional mental abilities, I'd never be able to focus it this clearly." Aya watched in silent horror as the dark liquid became firm and began to take a shape that he recognized. Within seconds, Nagi's right hand was wrapped around the hilt of a shining, black Chinese dao.


	7. Silent Storm: Final Chapter

**Disclaimer:** Okay, *this* is the last chapter. I promise this time. Really. And none of these characters belong to me. So, without further ado, welcome to the nightmare that is the last chapter!

Silent Storm  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix  
Final Chapter

Not far from the clearing that Aya and Nagi stood talking in, there were ample places to disguise oneself among the dead trees. The light of the lamps only extended so far, reaching less than a meter into the cold woods. Beyond that, there was a rich darkness, one that seemed to swallow up everything because of the lack of any moonlight.

It was for this reason that Ken had pulled his goggles on over his eyes as soon as he left the path to follow Aya. The strange yellow tint they had been given was more than a fashion statement: they also served as a weak substitute for night vision goggles. While they had nothing resembling the precision that the military models displayed, they at least allowed him to see through the nighttime forest.

From his hiding place crouched behind a large tree trunk, Ken could clearly see the moderately-lit clearing. However, he already knew from experience that if he turned to look over his shoulder into the night, that his eyes wouldn't adjust very quickly. He would be temporarily night-blinded. This was another reason he'd pulled on the goggles; they'd help filter that lag time out.

"Che," Ken breathed, watching as Nagi stepped up to Aya. What in the world were they talking about? He wished he was close enough to hear. Being a spectator was a lot less exciting than he'd imagined. Secretly, he even almost wished Schwarz would come out and make their presence known; at least that way, he'd have something to do other than be cold and watch.

A few more minutes passed by in relative quiet, the conversation between Aya and Nagi continuing civilly. At least that's what it looked like to Ken, from his vantage point. The rustling of branches or the whisper of the wind would occasionally act as the soundtrack for their conversation, but he couldn't actually make out what they were saying.

A small snap momentarily broke the aria the wind was determined to conduct. The sound was the sound of a small, dry twig breaking, or a dry leaf being crushed or scraped against other dry leaves. It was almost nothing, a faint noise, probably made by a feral cat or a small fox. Ken unsheathed his claws, a small smile forming on his face. He knew better.

In a reflexive motion, he spun around on his knees, crossing his claws high above his face. A second later, the sound of steel on steel rang through the airy, dead trees. The light from the clearing reflected off of the long, thin blade of the _main gauche_ that had struck Ken's bagh nakh and was still pressed against them, vying for superiority. Beyond the blade, white hair, pale skin, and a single gold eye stood out against the darkness of the trees, drinking in whatever light was available and reflecting it back at Ken's eyes. If he had worried about being able to see before, he wasn't now. His smile grew wider.

"Nice to see you again, too, Farfarello," Ken remarked, pressing up with his claws as he stood, "Still giving God a hard time?" Ken's grin was met with Farfarello's.

"It is always my desire," Farfarello hissed, glee coloring his voice, "To show the denizens of this world that their loving God has abandoned them. Do you believe He will save you now?" Oddly enough, Ken could almost understand the lunatic's joy at meeting him again. It had been a long time since he'd had an opponent this tough. It would be a good workout.

"I don't believe He needs to," Ken remarked arrogantly. Another second passed before he buried his foot in Farfarello's stomach, sending the lanky, white-haired man flying backwards into a nearby tree trunk. He slammed into it hard, causing the bare branches to rattle and scrape against each other, and causing dry, dead leaves to fall from their stems.

Ken himself was knocked back a few paces. He found himself hitting a tree trunk as well, although nowhere near as hard as the other man had. It really only served to steady him.

"We'll see about that," Farfarello replied, sounding a bit as if the wind had been knocked out of him, "I've been told not to interfere with Nagi's fight. So I'll have to have my fun with you tonight." Ken knew better than to believe that he had injured the other man; he might have gotten a good first lick in, but it was nowhere near good enough to make his masochistic opponent feel pain. He would just have to try harder.

"Same here," he replied, wearing a wicked, lop-sided grin.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Not far from Ken, another member of Weiß stood, watching the scene between Aya and Nagi unfold. He heard the beginning of a scuffle further back in the forest, but knew it was unwise to compromise his position and interfere. From the sounds of metal striking metal, he could tell Ken had found someone. There had to be more out there skulking about in the darkness, Youji reasoned.

Youji's position, unlike Ken's, was closer to the better-lighted clearing. He was only just out of the circumference of the light the lamps cast, sticking just close enough to the light to see, but not near enough to be spotted. He hadn't wanted to stray too far from the path; while Ken and Omi had their goggles to help their night-vision, Youji had no such luck. His tinted glasses actually held a weak prescription; he'd rather go without a bit of extra night-vision than to sacrifice the accuracy of his vision.

Youji glanced around the side of the tree he was using as cover to see what Aya and Nagi were doing. He could occasionally catch little snippets of their conversation, but not enough to make any sense out of it. To all appearances, it seemed as though Aya and Nagi were still talking calmly, albeit quite closely. And as inherently absorbing as all that was, it was boring Youji out of his skull. Worse, he was really craving a cigarette; the last one he'd had had been back at the RV while they were waiting on Aya.

'What the hell,' Youji thought, reaching into his left pocket and pulling out his pack. He knew well and good that lighting one would blow his cover to anyone nearby not standing in the clearing. But, he reasoned, if they wanted to fight, it'd be better than just sitting around watching people talk. Hell, it might even draw some of the heat off of Ken's backside. Suppressing a chuckle, Youji pulled one of the cigarettes out of their pack and pressed it between his lips. He fished a lighter out of his pocket, cupped his hand to shield the light from the wind, and lit the cigarette.

After a long drag, Youji thought he heard what sounded like a chuckle coming from his right. Drawing the cigarette away from his face, he looked over. Sure enough, there was a tall figure leaning against one of the trees. The light from the clearing cast shadows over the person's face and figure, but Youji could make out an outline and some dim features. He could see shaggy hair and the sparse light reflected off of starched white pants and the pair of aviator sunglasses that were perched on his head.

"Bored, pretty boy?" a nasal voice came from the shadowed figure, causing Youji to smirk. He took one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stamping it out with his foot.

"Not now," he replied, looking over the rims of his glasses at the other man as he stepped into the light. Youji could see the smirk he remembered, as well as the shock of nearly-orange red hair. He believed this man's name was Schuldich.

"Aww, you flatter me," Schuldich replied with a mocking tone, bending one arm under his chest as he gave a bow, "But isn't there so much more we could be doing than watching those two talk?" He winked at Youji as Youji held his left hand up in front of his face. Graceful, slender fingers from his right hand traced up his wrist before flipping a small metal piece away from the edge of his wristwatch. He pulled a thin wire out of the edge of the watch between his index and second fingers.

"You read my mind," Youji remarked, smiling wryly. Another second passed in quiet before he flung the wire from his wrist toward its target. The wire fell flat, though, Schuldich seeming to disappear before Youji's very eyes. He'd seen this sort of thing before. He knew it wasn't entirely an illusion; Schuldich was fast, and the fact that he had the power to read and control minds only complimented his speed.

The red head reappeared a second later, more than a meter to the left of where he had been. If possible, his grin had gotten even wider.

"Can't kill me if you can't catch me," he taunted, suppressing a laugh. Youji grinned, more out of irritation than actual amusement. If he didn't hit him the first time, he could always try again until he got it right.

Once again, Youji sent his wire flying towards his target, and once again, it fell short. As soon as Schuldich reappeared, laughing merrily, he tossed it in that direction. And as soon as he threw his wire out again, it missed its mark again. Smirking as he sized up the situation, Youji decided that this was going to need a little more class and style than taking out an average, everyday thug.

Using the fingers of his right hand to control the scope of the wire, he flung his left hand out in a wide arc. The long fingers moved deftly between the different folds of the strand of wire his watch produced, in almost the same manner a spider weaves a web. The wire appeared to be no more than graceful strands of light suspended in mid-air, the dim light from the park reflecting off the metal string. At the end of the arc, Youji turned his left hand over, grabbing the ends of the handful of wire he'd sent out, and yanked hard. Much as he'd anticipated, he felt resistance.

Looking up, Youji could see that he'd caught Schuldich squarely about the neck, his wrists having become bound up in some of the subsequent strands as he'd tried to pry the wire from his throat. There were other pieces, too, reflecting light off of his thighs and mid-section, but they were nowhere near as debilitating as the wire that was now strangling him.

Youji smirked to himself. He loved it when that trick worked.

A good ten meters back into the forest away from where Youji and Schuldich were fighting, the soft noise of a gun being cocked broke the relative silence. Set against the noise from Youji and Schuldich's fight, it was hardly noticeable to anyone that wasn't standing quite close to it. Pale light from the electric lights in the distant clearing reflected dimly off the polished barrel of the gun, as well as the large glasses on the face of the man holding it.

Crawford's eyes narrowed as he watched Schuldich struggle against Youji's garrote wire. He'd be damned if he'd let Weiß kill one of his men that easily, especially Schuldich. He leveled the gun, taking aim. It really didn't matter to him where he hit the blond, or if he survived it or not. As long as he dropped the wire, that was all that mattered.

A small smile began to tug at the corner of Crawford's mouth as his finger began to grow more tense on the trigger. As he began to apply pressure, however, he felt something small, round, and very cold press against the back of his neck. Even though he instantly knew what it was, the second he felt a familiar 'click' reverberate through his spinal column, his assumption was confirmed.

So caught up in taking aim at Youji had he been that Crawford had completely ignored the nagging warnings his subconscious had given him. He realized then, too late, that he'd not heeded his instincts. It was that, and it was also the fact that the person pressing a gun into the back of his neck was a random element, something that did not normally fit into the scheme of things. Crawford damned himself silently.

"I can't let you kill one of my boys," a husky, teasing female voice whispered, "I would much prefer you to sit this round out. I'm sure your compatriot will do just fine." Crawford lowered his gun stiffly, glaring as he turned his head to see who had taken him off-guard. "Besides," she continued with a wink, "Only cheaters bring guns into the fight."

"Cute," he muttered, turning to see the outline of a shapely woman in a mini-skirt. Her hair framed her face with large red ringlets, her keen eyes reflecting some of the light from the clearing back at him. He recognized her as the secretary he'd seen with Prime Minister Takatori's brother, the Police Commissioner, several months prior, and then later at the Estet's summoning ceremony. The red head was hard to forget, if for no other reason than her impressive cleavage.

Their attention was drawn back to the scuffle between Youji and Schuldich, however, when Youji let out a yelp of pain. Both Manx and Crawford turned to see the blond fall to his knees, clutching his head. His wire went slack, Schuldich grinning as it dropped from his wrists, freeing them up to tear off the wire at his throat. Before he could do anything else, though, Youji lunged for him, knocking him to the ground. Crawford reasoned that whatever Schuldich had just done to the lankier blond's mind must have been particularly nasty.

"Told you he'd do just fine," Manx quipped, lowering her gun and backing away quietly.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Through the binoculars he held to his goggles, Omi could see everything that was happening in the clearing between Aya and Nagi. Even though from a distance they might have looked civil, Omi had spent enough time around Aya to know when he was beginning to become quite angry. He watched Nagi draw quite close to Aya, knowing that the two of them might start fighting at any second.

Omi edged out further along the sturdy tree limb he had spread himself out on, wanting a slightly better vantage point in case one of Schwarz tried to jump into the brawl. As he crept along the branch, his hand slowly lowered the binoculars, causing him to look down momentarily. Something strange suddenly appeared on the periphery of his vision, making Omi blink and stop moving. He steadied the binoculars, following the odd movement he'd seen out of the corner of his eyes.

Sure enough, behind some scraggly bushes off to the right of his vantage point, Omi could see the back of a girl's head, her bright blue hair pulled up into two buns. She was kneeling behind the bushes, peeking anxiously out at the two men standing face to face in the clearing. Omi recognized her as the youngest member of Schreient. How she had survived their last encounter, let alone wound up working with Schwarz, was a total mystery to him, though. He knew he'd seen her stabbed through the chest; something about that just was not right.

Thinking she might try to interfere, Omi notched his crossbow and watched her carefully. If she made a move to attack Aya, he would have to engage her. However, after watching her watch them for at least five minutes, he became convinced that she was no immediate threat to anyone. He felt certain that if he could see her face, he'd see a worried expression there.

Silently, or as near to it as he could manage, Omi let the binoculars dangle from their strap around his neck, swung down from his tree limb, and softly landed on the leaf-strewn ground. He looked over to see if he'd startled the girl. No, she was still absorbed in the drama that was taking place in the clearing. Trying not to crush the leaves and twigs beneath his feet as he walked, he approached her, his crossbow at his side, but ready at a moment's notice.

"Hey," Omi said softly, finally near enough to her to be heard and not have to speak loudly. The girl started, a small, frightened gasp escaping her mouth. She whirled around quickly, leveling her yellow parasol at Omi's face, the lamplight glinting off of the sharp tip. He raised his hands, pointing the crossbow straight into the air.

"If you don't try to hurt me," Omi said slowly and quietly, "I won't try to hurt you. I'm only here to keep you from interfering with those two." The girl blinked and nodded, reluctantly lowering her umbrella.

"Nagi-kun doesn't want anyone to stop them from fighting, either," she said quietly, "But we didn't trust you. You're Weiß." Omi nodded, lowering his hands and kneeling to come face to face with the girl.

"Yeah," Omi agreed, "I'm one of Weiß. You're one of Schreient. Why are you here, anyway?" She blinked at him, drawing her umbrella close to her chest.

"Because I don't want anyone to hurt Nagi-kun," she responded huffily, giving him an angry pout, "If Nagi-kun wants to fight, I won't stop him. But I won't let Weiß gang up and pick on him like you did to Papa and Hel and Neu and Schoen." Omi watched her scowl, knowing that her description of the events of the past was not only extremely colored and biased, but quite wrong. He didn't think she realized that, though; to her, her words were heart-felt and honest. Now wasn't exactly the time to contradict her, either.

"Let me ask you something," Omi said quietly, wrapping his arms around his knees, "Nagi-kun... he's different now, isn't he?" The girl at first looked surprised, but that look faded into sadness in quick succession.

"Yeah," she said softly, "Nagi-kun acts weird now. Schuldich-san said he's growing up, and that I should help him. But it's really scary." Omi nodded. Hopefully, by lending the girl a friendly ear, he'd be able to get a few more clues as to what was actually going on.

"So it's not just his eyes that are strange?", Omi asked, trying to lead her on. She looked away from him, studying the ground and holding onto her parasol for dear life.

"No," she whispered, "He doesn't act like Nagi-kun anymore. Sometimes Nagi-kun wakes up screaming or crying, and sometimes he doesn't sound like Nagi-kun at all." Her words were almost too soft to hear, but something about them clicked with Omi.

"Wakes up... screaming?" he asked, glancing back out into the clearing at the boy in question and his own teammate, "So... what do you think is wrong with him?" The blue-haired girl's eyelids drifted lower, her long lashes almost shading her eyes entirely.

"Well, I used to hear this voice," she replied, her voice falling so low that Omi could barely hear it, "I know it sounds silly, but I really did! It would talk really nice to me, but sometimes I would start doing something and then I would wake up a few minutes later, or I would suddenly be doing something else. Then I got really sick, and I don't remember much that happened then." Omi looked at her, remembering what he'd been told about Sakura the night before. It was starting to sound like the exact same thing.

"Did you cough a lot?" Omi asked, trying to sound as sympathetic as he could, given the situation, "Did you ever cough up any black stuff?" The girl looked up at him, her eyes as wide as a startled deer's.

"Yeah," she said, nodding vigorously, "I don't remember a whole lot, though. I got better because Nagi-kun cut my hand." Again, it sounded to Omi to be ominously similar to Sakura's situation. The younger-sounding girl pulled the cuff of her fingerless gloves up from the base of her fingers to her wrist, showing Omi the palm of her left hand. There was a long, red scab across her palm, indicative of a wound not fully healed yet.

"Nagi-kun cut both our hands," she continued, "I think he pulled the bad stuff out of me, like you do with a snakebite. And I didn't hear that voice anymore after that." Omi nodded, taking this all in.

"So, you think it's the voice that's making him do this?" Omi asked, leaning forward. The girl nodded eagerly.

"But I can't give up on Nagi-kun," she said with a soft determination, "Even though he doesn't act like Nagi-kun anymore, I can't give up on him. It's not his fault." Omi reached out toward her, patting her shoulder. He realized that even though this girl and her 'sisters' might have done some despicable things, it wasn't truly out of malice or wickedness; for this girl, it was out of loyalty. Even though he knew that she had been on the wrong side of things, Omi admired her absolute devotion and single-minded loyalty in a way.

"Maybe we can find a way to help him," he said quietly, smiling at her in hopes that he could cheer her up a tiny bit. She smiled sadly back at him over the handle of her umbrella.

"You're nice," she said sweetly, "Even though you are one of Weiß."

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

The electric lamps on the walkway buzzed softly, their pale light falling over the two men standing in the park clearing. A cold, crisp wind cut between the two of them, tousling the brown-haired boy's messy hair. He gripped the hilt of his shining black dao and turned it upward and around in his hand, into an offensive position. The tip pointed down the walkway at the other man standing in the clearing, the one in the black trenchcoat, with red hair.

The redhead glared sharply, crouching into a defensive posture. His right hand instinctively shot to the hilt of the Japanese sword that was latched to his belt, hanging against his left hip. Aya waited, crouching, keeping his eyes locked on his opponent.

A small smile twisted up the lips of the brown-haired boy as he stepped forward slowly and steadily. "You are always so guarded," Nagi remarked, "Not that this is a bad thing. It is simply a sign of your skill. However..." He drew within a sword's length of Aya, who had neither straightened nor relaxed his posture. The taller man still glared at him.

"In this case," Nagi continued, coming to a stop, "It is wholly unnecessary. I am only going to prove a point to you." Aya remained silent, his eyes intently upon Nagi. The boy smirked for a second before his hand twitched, bringing the dao up sharply. Faster than Aya's eyes could register, the boy had slashed upward with the sword, twisting his wrist under to bring it up cleanly. The entire process took less than a fraction of a second and resulted in Nagi holding the sword vertically before his face. He continued to smirk at Aya, a small chuckle building in his throat.

Aya looked at the boy curiously, not understanding why he'd done something so strange. He had been close enough to cut Aya's face, that much he was sure of, but he hadn't felt a thing. As it was, Aya was rather worried that the boy could move that fast.

"Look down," Nagi said, a sinister note coloring his voice.

Taking his eyes from the other man momentarily, Aya looked down at the nearly-white pavement beneath his feet. As he did, he could see small black droplets dappling the path he stood on. He could feel cold fluid on his lips, puddling where Nagi had cut him. His eyes widened as he watched one more drop fall from his face and hit the ground, the other drops slowly fading away to nothingness. There was a tingling on his lips, underneath the cold liquid, and he could feel the wound closing itself. He straightened from his defensive position, wiping his mouth with the back of his black gloved hand in disbelief.

"Lies," he whispered, turning his eyes back to Nagi, who still had not quit smirking, "Liar! Damn you, what are you playing at?!" Nagi lowered the dao, the tip pointing to the ground, as Aya glared at him.

"I am not playing at *anything*," Nagi said, laughter hiding beneath the surface of his voice, "How do you think I removed myself from Tomoe Sakura in the first place?" Aya continued to watch him intently, his angry eyes speaking volumes that his voice would not. When Aya did not answer, Nagi continued.

"It was through her blood," Nagi continued, "That black ichor is my essence. It is my only real physical form at the moment. Outside of a human body, it does not hold any sway over anything. It merely dissolves, returning to the nether realms that I was resurrected from. However..." There was a malicious glee in his eyes now, a look that told Aya that perhaps what he feared was indeed true. He dared not think it, though.

"When blood that I inhabit is passed from one individual to another," Nagi went on, his gold eyes twinkling wickedly, "So am I. I and my power grow inside of that new host, until I can eventually overwhelm them. Nagi received my essence from Tot. He kissed her bloody mouth the night that he invited me into her body by mistake. Eventually, he took all of me that was inside of her into himself." Aya watched as the boy began to pace, keeping his disturbing gold eyes ever fixed on him. If what he said was true, then how could he have received that same black essence?

"It was all very noble of him," Nagi carried on, not waiting for Aya to respond to him, "And also very stupid. With this body, I took into myself the piece of me that the Estet had mistakenly placed inside Tomoe Sakura. Now, let me ask you something. Last night, her blood touched you when I cut her hand, did it not?" Instinctively, Aya's right hand flew up to his face, touching the cheek that her icy blood had come into contact with. A cold, high laugh cut through the clearing at Aya.

"I thought so," Nagi continued, his laughter tapering off, "Did you not wonder why, in a room full of broken glass, you came out without a scratch? When I cut her, you had already scraped your arms and face. That blood found its way into one of your cuts. I am inside of you, too, now." Aya stared at the golden-eyed young man, his look of anger and hatred having faded into a numb shock. As much as he wanted to deny it, he knew that what the boy had said was true. He remembered the glass on the carpet grinding into his face and palms, the shards of thick glass from the initial explosion having gouged his arms and hands. Later, he had not even taken the time to notice that all of those tiny cuts had mysteriously healed themselves.

"Then you..." Aya said haltingly, "You were responsible for that dream. It was you." His face began to take on the same angry air that it had held only minutes ago. Once again, he could feel hatred wrapping icy fingers around his heart as he looked at the smirking boy standing before him.

"I don't think it's fair to place the blame for that entirely on me," Nagi said, mischief playing at the edge of his voice. Aya snorted derisively. "You yourself were responsible for that dream," he continued, his smile growing broader as he began to pace a bit again, "The only part I played was to take your own hate, violent tendencies, heartlessness, and lust, and to reflect them back at you. It was all within you to begin with. You cannot blame me if you do not like what you see in yourself." Aya felt his blood run cold as he seized the hilt of his sword with his right hand, pulling it free of its sheath. He'd had more than enough.

"You sick bastard!" he roared, charging the smaller man. He no longer cared if he showed his emotions to the enemy. His only thought at the moment was to make the young man who was grinning before him pay for trespassing on his mind.

In one smooth motion, Nagi side-stepped him and caught his blade with his own dao. As he deflected the glinting steel with ease, his cold, high laughter began to ring through the clearing.

"Temper, temper, Ran-kun," he taunted, forcing Aya away from him with his blade, "You'll get sloppy if you get too angry. I should like to see a real fight." As Aya backed away, preparing for his next strike, Nagi drew the dao back over his head, adopting a distinctly odd fighting style. It barely registered with Aya, as angry as he was, but he knew he'd seen that stance used in some kind of Chinese fighting style.

Another second passed before the two of them launched themselves at one another again, every thrust being parried, the sounds of the fight reverberating throughout the naked trees. Even though Nagi had never exhibited it before, his speed now was uncanny, allowing him to dodge or deflect every one of Aya's attacks. Through all of it, the brown-haired boy kept that mocking grin on his face, his gold eyes full of malice. Aya could only reason that whatever was inside of him and Nagi knew how to fight.

The sounds of the frenzied sword fight echoed through the vicinity, causing all who were waiting in the wings of the forest to watch from their particular vantage points.

Omi and Tot stopped talking and watched from behind the scraggly bushes they had been using for cover. As engrossing as the fighting was, Omi spared a glance over at Tot's face. The worry he saw there was almost enough to make him physically ill. She looked as though she were about to burst into tears or burst into the clearing, whichever happened first. He didn't want to, but he knew that if she tried to interfere, he'd have to stop her.

Omi really hoped he wouldn't have to stop her.

Schuldich heard the commotion, both with his ears and with his mind. He had been busy trying to pry Youji's hands off his throat and throw the lanky blond off his stomach. As the sounds of the battle reached them, stalling Youji while he turned to look, Schuldich took the opportunity to land one last sucker punch and toss Youji to the side. The two of them looked at each other for a second before nodding an unspoken agreement. Taking a vantage point behind different trees, both of them turned to watch the proceedings.

Not far from those two, Crawford stood watching as well. He had lowered his gun, knowing that Manx had slipped back into the forest, probably moving off to a different hiding spot to watch the fight. Even though he had promised Nagi that he wouldn't interfere, watching the two of them go at it like whirling dervishes made Crawford wonder if he could really stand by and watch if his young charge was defeated.

A smirk began to form on his face. He knew that even if Nagi was injured gravely, the Beast would come out on top in the end. Even though it was a small consolation, it was really all that mattered at the end of the night. And he had no doubt that Nagi would be just fine, no matter what.

Further back into the forest, Ken was drenched in sweat, the cold night air cooling his body rapidly. He and Farfarello weren't done by any stretch of the imagination when the sounds of Aya and Nagi's battle reached them. Breathing heavily, he sheathed his claws, regarding the lankier, white-haired man.

"Time out," Ken muttered, "The fight's started." Farfarello sneered at him, drawing his blade back.

"That's your misfortune," Farfarello spat, raising his _main gauche_ to strike.

"Settle down!" Ken yelled, no longer in the mood for playing. In one smooth motion, Ken aimed a high kick at the other man's head, both his feet coming off the ground with the grace that only a soccer player can muster in mid-air. His heavy boots connected with the spiky, white head, knocking Farfarello back as spit flew out of his mouth. Ken knew he'd heard a crack when his kick landed, but he failed to worry about it - he knew from experience that whatever he did, Farfarello could take it.

Still standing, Farfarello took a few steps back, shaking his head as he wiped his mouth. A twisted smirk painted his face as he watched his opponent.

"We'll finish it later, then," he muttered, joining Ken in watching the fight that had begun without them.

Close to the very edge of the clearing, a black-haired woman with a tape recorder watched the fight intently. A redhead with large curls crept up beside her, not even causing her to flinch.

"You get anything good?" Manx asked, watching the two men in the clearing engage each other. Birman nodded, leaning against one of the deadened trees.

"I think I've been able to gather most of what's been going on with these two up till this point," she replied quietly, "I'll have to play it for you when we get home." They both watched the scene in the clearing as they spoke, engrossing as it was. Neither looked down as white fingers peeking out from beneath a long, red sleeve reached out and brushed against the hand holding the tape recorder.

"It's that bad, then?" Manx asked softly, watching the battle rage on. The sounds of steel connecting reached them loudly, even in their seclusion.

"It looks to be even worse than we thought," Birman replied, one of the fingers wrapped around the tape recorder stretching out to take one that had grazed it. "It looks bad for all of us," she said, her voice nothing more than a whisper.

In the clearing, Aya continued to try to get a clean shot at the boy who moved quickly before him. Every thrust was blocked, every strike parried. Not only was it extremely frustrating, Aya found himself desiring the kill more than he ever had. The thought repulsed him, but further inside than that, he couldn't bring himself to care. That, to him, was more frightening than the thirst for blood could ever be.

Even though he knew he should be exhausted by now, though, Aya didn't feel tired. He didn't even feel winded. If he had a spare second to devote to it, he probably would have decided that this, and his thirst to spill Nagi's blood too, was the Beast's doing. As it was, however, he simply wasn't thinking about it.

"Harder!" Nagi cried, blocking another attack, "You have to strike with more force! How do you expect to kill in that manner? You are not focusing!" He cackled, enjoying Aya's anger even as he heightened it. As a result, the stabs and thrusts became harder, more ferocious. Nagi's eyes glittered even as his defense began to slow. It was hardly noticeable to the untrained eye, his speed only reduced by a few fractions of a second. Aya, however, did notice. A maniacal grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth as he gave a particularly hard thrust.

The katana's aim was true. Nagi had turned his dao to block the tip of the sword with the width of his blade, but so powerful was Aya's strike that the dao shattered. In a hail of the liquefying pieces of Nagi's weapon, the katana pierced the shorter man's chest, directly below his right breast. As the steel sank into his flesh, darkness seeping out around the wound, Nagi turned his face up to meet Aya's grin with one of his own.

He laughed for a moment, a gleeful, wicked cackle, causing Aya to drive the blade further in. A second later, however, his eyes went wide, quivering as his laughter ceased. There was a cough, then a ragged gasp for air as his eyes met Aya's.

"You idiot," Nagi whispered, his voice flat and normal, "You just did what he wanted."

His own grin fading quickly, Aya looked down at his blade. Nagi's black blood oozed out of his wound, wrapping around the katana as though it were alive and trying to pull it in further. Aya's own eyes widened as his hands slid up the hilt without his consent; it was as though someone were pulling them forward. Another second passed and his hands had traveled across the sword's tsuba and onto the blade itself. A look of shock and horror quickly forming on his face, Aya felt his fingers grip the blade, the sharp underside cutting his palms cleanly. The cool steel pressing into his flesh, the seeping black fluid from Nagi's wound gripped Aya's hands tightly. He could feel his hands go cold as the blood covered them, the coldness spreading up his arms and to his chest. Even though it sounded as though it were coming from someone else, Aya could hear himself screaming.

And then, he felt nothing.

"Nagi-kun!" a woman's scream came from the edge of the clearing. Tot had torn through the bushes she had been hidden behind, no longer willing to sit and watch her beloved die without doing anything. Tears covered her face, reflecting the light from the lamps and glittering as they flew out behind her.

"No, don't!" Omi yelled, chasing after her. He wasn't sure if he should stop her or not, though; obviously, the fight was over. Even so, there was still the possibility that Youji or Ken would come after her. Worse yet, with what he'd just seen and what she'd told him, there was no telling what Aya would do.

It wasn't as if any of that mattered to Tot, though. She had already reached Nagi, throwing her arms around his waist and pulling him away from the blade of Aya's katana. The sword withdrew from his chest with a sickening 'slurp', the reddened blood flying away from his body. Tot fell to her knees, cradling Nagi's battered body in her arms.

"Nagi-kun, don't die!" she cried, frantically pressing his face into her chest and rocking him back and forth, "Don't die, please don't die! Don't leave me alone!" One of his hands moved up to his wound, clutching at it and causing Tot to relax her grip on him. She let him move away from her a bit, resting him on her knees as he looked up at her, smiling. His eyes were now their normal blue color and a small trickle of very red blood wound its way out of the corner of his mouth.

"It's okay, Tot," he said, struggling to get the words out. He was obviously having trouble breathing, the katana probably having struck one of his lungs. "It's okay," he repeated, his face taking on a strained look, "I can mend some of it myself. We can be together now - so don't be sad, okay?" Tot watched in horror as Nagi shut his eyes and his face began to look even more strained. Tears slid down her whitened face as she began to sob quietly. He coughed a bit, expelling some of the blood that had gathered in his mouth onto Tot's shirt.

Soon, though, Nagi's face relaxed. Tot saw this and held him tighter, wailing at the top of her lungs.

Omi stared at the two of them, standing a few meters back, not knowing what he should do. He looked over to Aya, who had begun to stir again. The redhead hadn't moved from the spot that he had been in when he'd stabbed Nagi. He seemed to be staring at the gash on his left hand, although Omi couldn't see his eyes clearly. After what seemed like minutes of listening to Tot wail and watching Aya stand there staring at his hand, the redhead's shoulders began to shake vigorously. A few seconds later, Omi heard him cackle, then saw him throw his head back in a fit of laughter.

With wide eyes, Omi watched as Aya turned to look over his shoulder at him. A wide grin had spread across his face, blood red hair spilling into his eyes, making him seem more demented and wicked than Omi had ever imagined Aya could look. With his turning, Omi could also now see his hand; the glove covering it had been split squarely across the palm, but the skin on his hand was yet unbroken. Perhaps the most disturbing of all, though, were his eyes: now, in the place of the deep violet they'd always been was a shining golden hue rimming long, reflective, cat-slit pupils. They were exactly like Nagi's had been when he was possessed. Omi knew what he had to do.

In the blink of an eye, Omi reached into his right vest pocket, drawing out four darts, holding them between his fingers and his thumb. With a speed that astounded even him, he surmised the distance between himself and his target, calculating how fast and at what angle he'd have to swing his hand to have them hit the desired target. Somehow knowing that if he didn't take him out soon, he'd never have the chance, Omi threw his darts.

All four landed firmly in Aya's shoulders and down his back. He didn't even wince as they entered his flesh, instead giving Omi a disdainful look of disbelief. Muttering a curse to himself as Ken and Youji came tearing out of the shadows of the forest, Omi pulled four more darts from his jacket and aimed them. He tossed them just before he was tackled by the two older members of Weiß. These too, Omi noted as he hit the ground, landed firmly in Aya's back.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Omi?!" Ken yelled, pinning the blond boy to the ground. Youji looked up from Omi, seeing that Ken had him well in hand, and afforded himself a look at Aya.

"Oh, hell," he muttered, noticing the redhead's strange eyes and wicked grin. Omi writhed to break free of Ken's grip, finally succeeding in pushing him away when he looked up to see what Youji was staring at.

"He's possessed!" Omi cried, drawing himself to his knees, "Look at his eyes! They're just like Nagi's were!" Ken and Youji both saw that he was telling the truth.

No sooner had both of them seen this, though, when Aya's eyes fell shut, Omi's tranquilizer darts having taken effect. The redhead fell to his knees, his black leather coat crinkling on the ground around his legs. His limp hand released his sword, letting it clatter to the pavement slowly. Unceremoniously, he fell forward. While the rest of Weiß were distracted, Farfarello and Schuldich ran into the clearing as well.

"This is insane," Omi breathed, standing and brushing his rear off, "Only five darts would be enough to kill a normal man. It took eight to bring him down. He's had enough tranquilizer to kill horse." The clearing was deathly still, excepting the occasional sniffle from Tot.

"This is bad," Ken agreed in hushed tones, "If that says anything about what we're dealing with here, he's going to be hell to deal with when he wakes up." Omi and Youji nodded in agreement as Schuldich rushed over to check on Nagi. The shaggy-haired man in the green coat bent down over his younger teammate, ignoring Tot's whimpers and checking his vital signs.

"We need to get him somewhere safe, fast," Omi went on, walking over to Aya's limp form, "I think Kritiker has a lab or a cell or... someplace secure where we could take him..." He bent down to check that Aya was still breathing, but stopped mid-way when he heard a gun click behind him. Instinctively, Omi's hands shot into the air. "Shit," he muttered underneath his breath, "I knew we forgot one."

Omi slowly turned, keeping his hands in plain view, to see a man in a white business suit and pale purple tie aiming a sleek handgun at him. He recognized the stern-faced man as Schwarz's leader, Crawford.

"That's good," the black-haired man said coldly, "Hands where I can see them. You're not taking the Beast anywhere. He's ours." He took a step forward, then turned his head to his redheaded comrade. "Schuldich," he barked, "How is Nagi?" The telepath looked up, his features calm.

"Pulse is weak and erratic," he said quickly, "Breathing is shallow, but there. If we don't do something soon, he'll go into shock." Crawford nodded his acknowledgment.

"I'll call an ambulance," Crawford replied, his words short and to the point, "Farfarello, collect Fujimiya." From the edge of the clearing to Crawford's far left, a small click came, drawing his attention. Once again, he'd gotten too wrapped up in what was going on around him; she had gotten the better of him again.

"I don't think so," a familiar female voice called, its owner stepping out of the shadows. Red ringlets bounced around a cheery red smile hidden behind a keen, silvery gun. Crawford watched in agitation as the light traveled up a shapely pair of white legs to a short, red mini-skirt, and onto a firm set of breasts. Finally, the lamps illuminated the woman's face. It was unmistakably the woman who had gotten the drop on him in the woods.

"Checkmate," another female voice called out, this one deeper than the other, but not as sultry. There was another gun click as yet another woman stepped out of the shadows with her firearm pointed at Crawford. This one was slightly taller, with legs just as nice, and a short blue and pink dress on. Her messy black hair framed her face, giving her an unkempt, exotic look.

"Gotcha, big boy," Manx said, winking, "We've beaten you to the punch. An ambulance is already on its way for your kid there. And Kritiker should be here any moment to collect Aya." Crawford lowered his gun reluctantly, glaring at the two women.

"What are we going to do, Crawford?" Schuldich hissed, looking up from Nagi, "They'll incarcerate him!" Crawford looked down at his subordinate, rage scarcely hidden behind his thick glasses.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," he growled, "He needs medical attention. Let's go." Schuldich glared mutinously at him.

"We can't just leave him!" the redhead protested, getting to his feet, "He's one of us!" A cough from behind them reminded Schwarz that there were still two ladies with guns trained on them.

"If you don't all leave soon," Birman said evenly, "You'll all be arrested. And as much as I'd like to spend more time with you lovely gentlemen, I'm sure that would put a crimp in your style." Schuldich spun around to look at them, directing his glare at Manx and Birman. A quick mind-scan told him that she was indeed letting them off the hook.

"What do you gain out of letting us go?" Schuldich asked suspiciously, although he already suspected the answer.

"Why are you looking a gift horse in the mouth?" Manx asked, letting some of her cheek show through, "It's not like they'd let you ride in the ambulance, anyway." This, Schuldich found through a quick probe, was Manx-ese for 'We don't have the resources to arrest you right now. And currently, you are the least of our worries.' Reluctantly, he looked down at Tot.

"C'mon, kid," he said, bending down and grabbing her arm, "We've got to go." Tot shook his hand off and clutched Nagi tighter to her chest, continuing to rock back and forth on her knees.

"I won't!" she cried, her eyes screwed shut, "I won't leave Nagi-kun! Not until he's better, I won't let him go!" Schuldich narrowed his eyes, his temper becoming even more threadbare.

"Look, you can visit him all the time in the hospital, if that's what you want," he tried to appease her, "But we need to go right now, or they're gonna arrest you!" Tot shook her head furiously, clinging to Nagi. Frustrated and just plain angry, Schuldich grabbed her arm again, this time putting his full force into it. With one vicious yank, he managed to pry Tot away from Nagi, causing him to fall the short distance to the ground. In another second, she was on her feet, crying frantically and trying to break loose of Schuldich's grip.

"Damn you!" he screamed, shaking her, "Calm the hell down and let's go!" Tot, however, refused to be comforted and continued to struggle against him, pounding his chest with her feeble little fists. Schuldich sighed, exasperated.

"Oh, to hell with this," he finally grumbled, giving her a mind-shock that was perhaps a bit more vicious than necessary, "There." Her eyes flew open for a brief second, and then Tot fell, unconscious, against him. Glaring, Schuldich scooped her limp form up and turned to Crawford.

"Let's go," the black-haired man said firmly. Schuldich and Farfarello nodded to him. Another few seconds passed and they were gone, having vanished back into the forest from whence they came.

"Think they'll really give up that easily?" Birman asked, lowering her gun, watching as Ken, and Youji scrambled to their fallen comrade and Omi to check on Nagi.

"I have no doubt we'll hear from them again," Manx said breathlessly as the sirens of an ambulance drew closer, "They're just regrouping." She lowered her gun as well, looking down at her feet. As she did, small, gray drops began to form on the pavement beneath her feet. A small rumble sounded in the background and the wind picked up. What started as small droplets began to fall in sheets after only a few seconds. The rain had finally begun.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *  
Epilogue  
* ~ * ~ * ~ *

As his eyes fluttered open for the first time in almost two days, the first thing he noticed were the tubes. He was reclining in a chair of sorts, one that he wasn't entirely familiar with, and there were tubes everywhere. Tubes coming out of his nose, tubes coming out of his arms where IVs had been inserted. He also noticed that there were several wires running to patches that had been secured underneath his pale blue gown, against his skin with medical tape, there, he presumed, to monitor his various vital signs. There was the beeping of several machines nearby, some scribbling with tiny needles on tiny sheets of paper to record how his body reacted to various things.

Inhuman gold eyes peered hazily up through bright red bangs at their surroundings. A white room, sanitary, sleek, futuristic. On the far wall, no more than two meters from his spot in the wheelchair, was a darkened glass that reached almost to the ceiling. A one-way window, he presumed. On the wall to his left was a door, although he could barely see it. It was recessed into the wall, nothing more than a pale, thin line against the stark, icy white of the rest of the room.

He could feel the sedatives being pumped into his veins by the IVs, could feel their effect on him. They made his mind slightly hazy and his body feel as heavy as lead. Right now, he could barely lift a finger. But he knew it wouldn't be permanent. They couldn't keep him here forever.

"We can't keep him here forever," a female voice said, safely on the other side of the black glass. Inside a control booth, lit only by computer screens and control panels, two women and several medical technicians watched the redhead awaken. The voice had belonged to the black-haired woman who had her arms folded over her blue business suit. The redhead with the sausage curls to her left nodded in stern agreement.

"I'm afraid of what will happen if he recovers," Manx agreed quietly, "Hopefully, though, we'll never see that day. He's safer here than anywhere else." Birman, her eyes full of worry, turned to her partner.

"I just hope the sedatives are enough," Birman replied softly, looking down at the body of their former charge, Fujimiya Aya, strapped into captivity.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

In a darkened hospital room a few districts away, a brown-haired boy lay comatose. His body was also decorated with intrusive tubes, but unlike Aya's, these were only to help sustain his vital functions. The room was shady and barely lit, the curtains pulled tightly against the sun and the moon. There was one bouquet sitting on the table beside his bed, a small thing, full of white roses and lilies, with a stuffed pink rabbit tied to the vase as decoration.

Humming quietly to herself, a blue-haired girl sat beside the bed in one of the hospital's bulky, uncomfortable armchairs. Her white shirt and pink skirt tried in vain to cheer up the atmosphere of the otherwise dismal hospital room, as did her sad humming. The crinkle of paper also accompanied her, serving as a strange sort of mood music for what she was doing.

Finally finished, she stopped crinkling the paper and held her work out in front of her. Smiling sadly, she looked down at the stuffed white bunny laying across her lap, and showed him the folded piece of paper.

"Look, Rabbi-chan," she said softly, almost as if she were afraid of waking the sleeping boy, "It's a paper crane. Do you think Nagi-kun will like it?" She pulled the beak and tail of the crane, causing its wings to flap a bit as she did.

"'Why, yes, Tot-chan,'" Tot responded to herself, effecting a different voice for 'Rabbi-chan', "'I think Nagi-kun will love it when he wakes up!'" Tot smiled sadly to herself, placing the paper crane on Nagi's sleeping form.

"I heard a story once that said that a girl tried to fold a thousand paper cranes to make a wish for world peace come true," Tot whispered to her stuffed animal, "She died trying because she was sick, but maybe I can do it. And if I do that, then maybe my wish that Nagi-kun will get better and we can be together again will come true."

With a sad determination, Tot picked up her next piece of origami paper.


End file.
